


Dark OQ Week

by audreyslove



Series: Dark OQ Series [1]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:39:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 31,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313573
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audreyslove/pseuds/audreyslove
Summary: A series of fics from dark!OQ week





	1. Chapter 1

“Did you love him, too?”

 

They are sitting across from one another, at that damned tavern, when he has the audacity to ask  _ that  _ question out of the blue. 

 

Just when she was thinking she had made the right decision, that maybe she really could fall in love with this man, he has to bring up  _ him. _

 

“No _ ,”  _ she stresses, “when I was tied to her, when I couldn't feel anything just for me, sure.  But not anymore.” She chuckles darkly, “He... bored me.  Honestly, that part of me that was attracted to a single father traipsing around the woods stealing from royalty only to give it  _ peasants.”  _ She wrinkles her nose.  “He wasn't for me. Just another part that  _ she  _ forced on me, made me have, even thought I never wanted it… I'mglad I'm free of those feelings.” She smiles seductively at him, hopes to distract him from the subtle shaking of her hands.  

 

He just stares back at her, eyes lingering over every feature, head tilting to get a different perspective of her.  She suddenly feels very on display, almost naked, and she doesn't like this at all, doesn't like that he can do this to her one bit.

 

“What?” she finally says, exasperated and defensive, tugging at the collar of her dress, as if an extra inch of coverage will somehow prevent him from seeing through her mask.

 

“Nothing,” he says softly, “you're just lying.”

 

She snarls and rolls her eyes.  “I am  _ not.” _

 

“Mm, you are,” he says more confidently.  “I'm a thief, Regina.  My whole life has been about analyzing people, seeing what they have to hide and where they've hidden it.  I can tell you're lying now, you can't hide that from me.”

 

Her jaw nearly drops before she reminds herself she's the god damned evil queen, and she will  _ not  _ let herself be spoken to like that by a petty thief, even if that thief is the god damned mirror image of a man she once cared about for far too long.

 

“I never loved him.” she says through clenched teeth.  And then, “Why do you  _ want _ me to love him?  To waste time loving a man who no longer exists, someone I can never see again, even in death, who died because  _ she  _ tricked him into thinking our lives were worth his…” Robin looks at her sadly, almost with pity, but it's not pity, she realizes, but  _ concern _ .  But he needn't feel concern, she reminds him, “I don't love him.”

 

“Ok.” He surrenders easily, arms up in the air as his expression says all she needs to know— he doesn't believe her.

 

“Have you ever lost someone you loved?” she asks quietly.  She's surprised to find him nodding.

 

“We were so young, but Marian… before we could run off together she died.  We were never together, never shared more than a few kisses, but…”

 

“That's how it was with Daniel, the man I first loved…” Regina sighs. “It hurts, doesn't it? Not even knowing what could have been because you never truly had that chance…”

 

Robin looks pained, positively miserable as he nods.  There's silence for a while and it seems he's working something out in his head, as if he’s had a revelation. “I try not to think about it, but... losing her he way I did made me... quite angry at the world, now that you mention it.  I didn't want to be around anyone, burned every bridge, destroyed every friendship I had.  It made me feel…  _ less,  _ in the short run but… that sort of grieving has its price, you know. Choosing anger, isolation, revenge... my life was... I wasn't happy.”

 

She feels hot needles prick behind her eyes, threats of tears terrifying her, makes her want to poof out of his sight and never return.

 

The Evil Queen  _ does not  _ cry.

 

(Yes, she does, so often, so much…)

 

The Evil Queen does not let people  _ see  _ her tears.  So she clears her throat and blinks them back.

 

“I wasn't happy as the queen,” she admits, her voice pitchy and pathetic.  “Not even for one day.”

 

He reaches out to grab her hand.  “Maybe we can still be happy.  Isn't this what Henry said we'd get?  A fresh start?”

 

She nods and looks into his eyes.  A fresh start.  A clean slate.  This is what  _ Henry  _ gave her.  She owes it to him to make it work.

 

And that means she can't continue to deny  what she feels.  And it means she shouldn't hide herself either. She's going to have to be  _ open _ . Regina had just started to do that, before they split.  It's still a little foreign to her, still has her pulse knocking hard in a panicked rhythm at the thought of being so vulnerable.  But she's known strong people to do it, seen them live their lives like this and not to lose their strength.  Mal was open, so honest about every feeling she had, and she was powerful and brave and strong.

 

She can do this.

 

“I didn’t mean to offend by asking.  I just want to know you,” he pleads, “the real you.”

 

She looks up into this man's eyes.  This beautiful, attractive man who shares so much with the man that was taken from her, and softly admits, “Fine. I loved him, still love him... of course I do.” 

 

She shuts her eyes and lets two tears fall, lets them slide down her cheek before she wipes them away.  When she opens her eyes he's there, comforting and warm and  _ hers,  _ and she thinks that this will hurt, it will hurt quite a bit, but it will be worth it, after all.


	2. Chapter 2

Written for DarkOQ week.  This fills both prompts: adapting to the wish realm + first fight.  Enjoy. :)

* * *

 

 

Her magic does not work well in the wish realm, it turns out.  She had thought that a fresh start meant no one would recognize her, that she could finally be free of the reputation of the Evil Queen.  So when magic did not come to her that first night in the tavern, she paid it no mind.  It would come back, she had mused, at some point.  But for now she could just enjoy life as Regina.  

 

There are drawbacks, of course, to having no magic.  Getting in and out of her dress without help is a nightmare, it turns out (she won't let Robin help her put her dress back _on,_ it's a level of intimacy they both haven't reached).  Robin insists she let him steal her something more _sensible_ to wear, but she will have none of it.  Everything in this realm is different and she needs her own clothes, just her one source of comfort to feel _herself_.  

 

For three days, other than the discomfort of dressing herself and the need to reuse the same dress, she finds the realm... easy to enjoy, even without magic.  And what's not to enjoy, when your Not Soulmate is there to kiss and touch at night, and there's a whole new world to explore in the daytime?

 

But on their fourth day in the realm something changes.  She strolls through the village as she has done everyday before, but on _this_ day, peasants shriek and run from her as if she were the most frightening monster they had ever seen.  

 

“What's happening?” she whispers to Robin.  He looks just as confused as she does, though he doesn't look the least bit concerned.

 

“I'm not sure.  This is a fictional wish realm, yeah?  Maybe someone made a new wish and it... changed things? People cared fuck all about you before but they certainly seem to care now.”

 

People abandon their carts of fruit at the market, running and ducking for cover, and Robin looks at her, pleased as punch as he hands her an apple off the cart.  “You make my job easy,” he says. “Thievery requires no skill when people leave their valuables and run away.  Do you think you could do me a favor and walk into that shoe store?  I need some new boots.”

 

She rolls her eyes.  It's not funny.  People are running away because they think she has magic, but if they find out she does not... they will run toward her.  They will run toward her with hot tar that will burn her flesh, they will either burn her alive or string her up by a tree and stone her slowly until she dies.  That's the punishment for killing royalty, after all.

 

They journey back to Robin’s camp that night, Regina aware she can no longer stay in the inn that she had called home since moving to this realm.  She knew she'd end up here eventually (she was kidding herself for ever thinking otherwise), but it does seem a bit... soon.

 

“They are terrified of you, I can't imagine why _you_ are afraid,” Robin muses.

 

“I'm not _afraid,_ I'm _concerned.”_ Regina corrects, for god’s sake she is not scared, does not scare, is certainly not scared of a bunch of _peasants_.

 

Robin raises a skeptical eyebrow before reminding her, “They don't _know_ you don't have magic.  No one's going to risk confronting you given all the stories of those who tried and failed.  Relax.”

 

He's an idiot.

 

As if to prove him wrong, they hear the noise of an angry mob moving through the forest that night.  It's mostly villagers with pitchforks and pointed sticks, some set aflame, but they are directed by... others... on horseback.  Regina urges Robin to hide with her, behind a tree at the top of a hill while they watch the crowd in the valley below.

 

“The Evil Queen killed your King, Queen and Princess.  She must be destroyed.  Scour every thicket in the forest, search every home or hobble you can find...  bring her body to me, along with the one who is harboring her, bring them to me dead or alive, and you shall have your reward - all the riches you can carry on horseback!”

 

It's Henry, and it kills her, hearing his sweet voice demanding her death.  

 

_It's not really Henry_ she reminds herself.  Her Henry would never.  But still….

 

“Ah, a _reward!”_ Robin says with a chuckle.  “Forgot about that.  Nothing gives a man brass balls like the promise of opulence.  Well, off we go, then.” He urges her up, that amused smirk on his face.  He's not scared, he's not panicked.  He looks like he's tickled pink about this grand new adventure.

 

What an idiot.

 

“This is serious,” she says through clenched teeth.  “They are going to kill us and you're acting as if we are plotting to avoid a surprise party.”

 

“And _you_ act as if this is my first time escaping an angry mob,” he chides, “come now, follow along, I know the drill.”

 

For days, for weeks, they live like outlaws. Robin wins the argument over her clothing, and that seems to please him.  She doesn't wear a frilly cotton dress, though, he steals her some leather britches and a couple of white thermal shirts she quite likes.  When he finds her a fur vest it hits her - she's worn this outfit before.  She's reliving Isaac’s heroes and villains universe, this time with a dramatic twist, and it would be funny, if she didn't have to see evidence of how much her Not Son hates her every minute of the day.

 

She enjoys this Robin.  Enjoys him more than she thought possible.  They live in the woods, it's cold and dirty and wet, but she feels warm and safe with him.  But there's a problem.  She's distanced herself from him emotionally since they took flight.

 

She has no power.  She's too reliant on him and she can't stand it.  She doesn't want him to see her as a burden, or as weak.  And it’s hard to imagine he wouldn’t see her as both of those things when she so clearly does.

 

She's _never_ been the weak one in the relationship, but she is now.

 

Robin steals for her.  Robin finds them food.  Robin always has an escape route — a way to take out a wandering guard, a way to hide in the forest without being noticed.  

 

The only thing she can do is cook, and even that is difficult, given that they are in a forest with meager supplies.  Still, she wants to contribute, so she makes the most of little ingredients that grow in the forest, grateful for the time when she had easy access to cookbooks and 28 years to learn how flavors compliment each other.  Robin is appreciative, it seems, though he disapproves of her cooking methods because, admittedly, they are dangerous.  He tells her he is fine with charred unseasoned meat and overripe fruit, because they are _safe._

 

“You keep spoiling me and I may become picky,” he laments as he moans into a well seasoned, perfectly cooked stew.  “Besides, we both know that cooking like you do is risky.  Hours with a burning flame?  You know the smoke gives our location to anyone nearby.  No more of this, yeah?”

 

“No. Just because we live like animals doesn't mean we have to _eat_ like animals,” she argues.  

 

She works on her magic every night. Spends every hour until she falls asleep trying, until tears of frustration and worry (and _yes,_ of fear) fall quietly while Robin sleeps.

 

And then in the morning she throws on her simple garments and cooks.

 

He’s right, though.  She's making another complicated stew that she's been brewing since dawn when she hears the mob approach.  Robin curses and gives her a look, _that_ look, the look that says he was right and she was wrong.  The look that says this all her fault, that she's ruined his life, that she's a burden, that she's…

 

He throws dirt on the fire and snuffs it out hissing “Come on,” to her, motioning to a nearby tree.  

 

He makes it there first despite the fact he’s carrying a small bag of their supplies.  This particular tree is big and tall, without branches until several feet in the air, not climbable, if not for the rope he's wound around the thick branch high above them.

 

“You first, now.”

 

It's not the first time they've used a tall tree as a hiding place, but this is so close to camp…

 

“Here?  Shouldn't we... put some distance between us and camp?”

 

“Do we have time to argue?” Robin asks in an angry whisper.  “They could be coming from different angles, this is safest.  And besides, they won't look for us here, so close to camp.”

 

He's an idiot.  Such an idiot.  But he’s right; they do not have time to argue.  So she shimmies up the rope and he follows.  He's barely had time to pull the rope back up when the guards come, inspecting the campsite.

 

“Fire was just put out, they didn't go far,” says a guard.  “Search every direction, they left in a hurry so it must be someone with something to hide.

 

“Someone should stay here, in case they return,” says a guard, peering into the stew.  

 

Regina elbows Robin in the ribs and hisses “You see?  Bad idea, they are going to wait on us all night.”

 

Robin whimpers in pain and rubs his ribs tenderly.  “Ow.  Why are you blaming me? That guard only suggested that because of your stew.  Look at him, the fat bastard, I guarantee he'll eat the whole pot while everyone else is off looking for us.”

 

He's right, unfortunately.  This Robin is good at reading people, he may be crap at everything else, but... he can sense a person's motivations like none other.

 

And as he man helps himself to Regina's meal (it wasn't even finished, it had to to simmer for a few more hours, dammit), Robin shoots her another _I told you so_ glance.  

 

“Your need to play culinary queen of the forest strikes again,” he mutters, “Now we are feeding the people who want to kill us, wonderful…”

  


He's right, and it hurts, but she's the Queen, and he should _not_ talk to her that way.  “Oh shut up,” she hisses back, “you kept saying you didn't even like that stew, what are you so upset about?”

 

“Oh, of course I liked the stew, it is bloody amazing!” he argues, “I don't like that we need to luxurious meals, when we are running for our lives, but I guess I should have expected this while traveling with a queen. The next time I enter the outlaw life it won't be with royalty, I can tell you that.”

 

Her face flushes red, and her heart sinks.  He resents her already, it seems.  So now she will go.  “Well, good news, we will stay up here until the man falls asleep and then we can climb down from here, and it's the last you'll ever have to see of me.”

 

He looks perplexed.  “What does _that_ mean?” he asks, “Where do you plan to go?”

 

She shrugs.  “Anywhere is better than here.  I'll figure it out.  On my own.  I'm best on my own.”

 

Robin rolls his eyes.  “Yes, you'll be better off without me, because I've been such a terror to you. Remind me again, whose fault is it that we are up in a tree?”

 

“Mine!” she nearly shouts, remembering just in time that she must whisper.  “It's my fault, this whole thing is my fault.  I've been nothing but a burden since I arrived.  I’m utterly useless without my magic. I won't stay that way.  I'll make it on my own.  You're free of me, Locksley.”

 

She crosses her arms and moves as far away from him as she can, but they are in a tree together, and unless she’s climbing up or down, they are stuck, right against one another.  She hates this.

 

“You’re not a burden, Regina,” Robin says softly, after a few minutes of silence.  “And you’re certainly not useless. I get it, you can’t use your magic, and it’s a struggle to not have such power…”

 

“It’s not just that—” she protests, but he brings a finger to his lips, and she finds herself obeying, letting him say his peace.

 

“I’ve had… partners over the years.  No one can climb a rope quite like you.  No one has taken to tracking quite as fast.  And when I distracted that merchant, the way you pilfered those goods without him ever noticing, I could not have done that alone, and it is not something just anyone could do.  So give yourself some credit, okay?”

 

She hadn't... she really hadn't thought of those things as a skill.  But he seems so sincere.  She's used to offering so much more, it seems impossible that only contributing this much would mean anything… It doesn't feed them or clothe them or protect them as much as he….

 

“I can cook,” she finally says meekly, and he chuckles and nods, mutters a _You certainly can_ , but he doesn’t get it, so she elaborates.  “I can’t do much, but I can cook.  That’s why… I keep insisting.  It’s all I feel I can offer.”

 

“Bollocks, you offer loads more than that,” Robin scoffs.  “I wouldn’t pick anyone else to stay by my side.  To be quite honest, I highly doubt anyone could take my company for this long uninterrupted.  That’s why I’m usually alone.”  He cups her chin tenderly and looks her in the eye.  “I much prefer it this way.  I’ll take living in trees and hiding in bushes for the rest of our lives over living my old life. So don’t leave me alone again.”

 

She blinks back tears, contemplating his words.  She wants so desperately to tell him that she doesn’t want to leave, that this is the closest she’s been to happy since the brief time she had the old Robin in her life, when she let herself dream she’d have a family.  But she still feels so vulnerable, so easily broken that sharing this with him seems too dangerous for her poor heart. So she nods, and says nothing.

 

Robin, however, has more to say.  “I hear you at night.” he says softly.  He looks down as if ashamed of himself.  And he _should_ be, that’s spying, he’s been pretending to be asleep when…

 

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” he explains, “you work yourself to the bone trying to bring your magic back.  You don’t have to.  Let it come, or hell, let it stay away.  We don’t need it.  We have each other.  We’re a good team without the magic, yeah?  So stop beating yourself up at night.  And for the last time, stop cooking because you think you need to contribute.  You contribute a fuck lot just by being you.”

 

Tears come, but it’s getting dark now, and maybe he doesn’t see them.  Maybe.  She keeps her voice steady as she whispers “Alright,” into the dusk air.

 

He smiles and raises an eyebrow suggestively.   “Also… I know we’re currently in a tree, but... I miss _this._ ” He grabs at her waist and kisses her, letting his hands wander, rubbing over her breasts down to the swell of her backside.  “I know you’re new to the bandit lifestyle, but once you adjust, I do hope we can resume these… _activities_ more often.”

 

Regina sighs, tries not to look too terribly affected (she likes when he talks like this to her, loves it, really, but she shouldn’t) but can’t help biting her lip as she rolls her eyes.  “I guess we’ll have to see if you’re able to win me over,” she chirps softly.  

 

He laughs and shakes his head, tells her he intends to do just that.

 

The guard falls asleep after eating nearly half a pot of stew (she can take the credit for that one, Robin says, her stew is so homey and warm it can settle nearly anyone to sleep), and they escape, taking off into the forest to make yet another new start.

 

This time, Regina feels much stronger, and even lets herself become optimistic that this is a life that could work for them.

 

In three days’ time, her magic returns to her, gentle, like a feather falling on her back.  She feels it, feels the warm power pulsing through her.

 

For her first act of magic she poofs a perfectly cooked stew into Robin’s hands.  As he looks at the bowl, awestruck, she chuckles.

 

“I’m tired of playing bandit,” she muses, a fake pout on her lips.  “I have an idea for a new place we could go.  How do you feel about yet another fresh start?”

 

“With you?” he asks, a glimmer in his eye.  “Absolutely.”

 

She smiles slyly and presents him with the sparkling bean she had been able to uncover with her newfound magic, and tells him, “Let's go find ourselves a home.”

 


	3. Free Day - First Time in the Enchanted Forest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Regina and Robin land in the Enchanted Forest and have some with each other. Rated M.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a super late entry for the Dark OQ Day: Free Day. It would also double as smut day, lol. Many thanks to Bea for betaing, for Jen and Hannah for encouraging me. You guys are the besttt

A magic bean takes concentration to be used properly.  Unfortunately, Regina’s mind is anything but  _ focused  _ as she uses that bean.  She meant to transport them to her castle, but certain  _ thoughts  _ bubble in her mind, thoughts that have her second guessing that decision, has her mind racing through several different, safer corners of her kingdom instead.    She’s somewhat surprised when they arrive in the middle of an old trail, a mere mile from Snow’s summer castle.  The nostalgia and happiness of the moment - of knowing that they _ made  _ it, makes it happier than she can imagine.  She should wait, should make the treck to her castle herself (or hell, use her magic to poof herself there) but there’s such an appeal in bringing Robin to  _ Snow White’s  _ castle.  She can’t resist, can hardly wait to share a lust-filled night in the princess’s bed.  In fact, the debauchery of it all is too powerful to resist. 

 

Besides, Regina’s castle has… memories.  And issues.  And things she needs to discuss with him, places where they cannot go, places where her mind wanders at times, and no, she’d rather not deal with all of  _ that  _ right away.

 

“This looks like my realm,” Robin says cautiously as they make their journey.

 

“It's almost exactly like yours in every way.  Except the people are real, so we are going to have to try to kill less.  Oh and my son won't be urging every man, woman and child to hunt us.”

 

“Mm,” Robin says, winking at her.  “Sounds a bit boring, no?”

 

“Oh, I think we can keep each other's interest,” she says in that deep, smooth voice of hers.

 

He looks at her warmly, biting his lip as his eyes take over every part of her body. 

 

They haven't spent too terribly long with one another, but still, she knows what  _ that  _ look means.  And thank god, because she wants to rip his clothes off just as badly as he appears to want to rip hers off.

 

But they will both have to wait.

 

She's been giving him the same heated look he's been shooting her, but she turns away now, and focuses on the road before them.  “Come on, I have a lot to show you,” she says, ignoring his suggestive  _ Oh yes you certainly do  _ response.

 

When he fails to get a rise out of her, Robin takes a an interest in their destination.  He picks up speed, darts through overgrown woods and sighs out a puff of frustration.

 

“Can't you... use your magic to transport us there?” he asks impatiently, as they continue their journey.

 

“Robin of Locksley, man of the forest, now can't even stand do a one-hour hike…” Regina clicks her tongue disapprovingly, “I guess I  _ have  _ made you soft, after all.”

 

“Soft isn't the word I'd use to describe how you make me,” he grunts.  “And I haven't had time to explore your body without threat of death hanging over us in forever”. He grabs her and pulls her close, arms looped tightly around her waist, lips inches from her own.  “I've been dying to pay you proper attention, so let's just go…” He nibbles on her neck, pressing kisses between small bites, and it's absolute heaven.

 

“I want to take you on a stroll through our new town,” she argues, though her voice has that edge of need she can't hide.  She wants this as badly as he does. 

 

“Let me take you here,” he begs.  It's a tempting offer, despite the damp coolness of the forest now, she rather enjoys the passionate, aggressive romps on the ground amongst dead leaves and rotting bark... god, if mother could see her now…

 

“No touching until we reach the castle doors,” she chides, removing his hands from her hips and walking in front of him, leading the way to their destination.  

 

Close now.

 

“If you really didn't want me to touch you, I can't imagine why you picked  _ that  _ dress to wear,” he says pointedly.  And well, she can't really argue with him there.  The red velvet and lace dress with the tightly drawn corset is one of her favorites, built for seduction, and it's exactly why she wore it today.  Robin goes on, “It certainly doesn't look comfortable, and it can't be keeping you warm… lord knows the only thing it does is make my mind into mush.”

 

“Do you want me to change?” She spins around and asks in feigned innocence.

 

He can't help but chuckle and shake his head.  “No, I'm rather taken with the view.”

 

“We’re hiking through the beautiful woods of my realm, you better  _ appreciate the view  _ of the sights I show you,” she chides, unable to keep that ghost of a smile from appearing, just a shadow underneath the stern gaze she throws him.

 

“Do you know how good your arse looks in this thing?” he asks, “I promise of the thousand mental pictures I intend to take of your lovely backside, I'll keep in mind to pay proper respect to the beautiful foliage framing each shot.  Okay?”

 

“That is acceptable,” she says dryly, and then she spins back around and continues to lead him down the trail.

 

He responds by giving her ass a good squeeze. “ _ This _ is quite acceptable, as well.”

 

It has her lips curving into a smile.  The other Robin would never do that, he was always respectful and delicate with her body, if she said ‘no touching’ even in jest, he was completely hands off.  And while  _ Regina  _ appreciated that, the Queen finds she likes a firmer touch.

 

“Just  _ acceptable _ ?” she asks, not bothering to turn around, “Perhaps I should find a new suitor who is more appreciative…”

 

“It's bloody marvelous,” Robin interrupts, “and as for being appreciative, oh believe me, I am, but you are set in not letting me show you my  _ appreciation _ .”

 

She's ahead of him, so he can't see her smile, he can only hear her haughty little remark about how  _ patience is a virtue, _ but truly, she fights for her own impatience the whole way to Snow’s god damned castle.

 

And he continues to grab at her, tries to win her over with scorching kisses and dirty words, and he very nearly almost has her caving when they pass a large, thick tree and he whispers all the deliciously sinful things he wants to do to her against its trunk.

 

But she resists, because to give in would be to lose, and queens do not lose.  The Princess’s castle is in sight now, and Robin catches a glimpse of it and moves beside her, no longer needing to blindly follow.

 

“In my realm this was Queen Snow’s castle,” Robin murmurs in her ear.

 

“Mine too,”  Regina acknowledges.

 

He looks at her with pure curiosity and hums. “I thought we were going to live in  _ your  _ castle.”  There’s something in his voice, as if he’s aware there may be a problem there.

 

“We are.  We’ll go there, in due time.  But…” she sighs in that breathy way she knows he loves, and runs a hand up his arm.  “This castle has been abandoned since the first curse was enacted, and besides, it’s much  _ closer _ .”

 

“Not bloody  _ close _ enough,” he mutters under his breath.

 

He follows her orders, though, somewhat.  He may have been unable to resist touching her throughout their walk in the woods, but he doesn’t take her in his arms until the second they enter the castle.

 

He pushes her against the large wooden doors and kisses her with a hunger she hasn’t quite felt before.  One hand gropes greedily over her ass, while the other slowly pulls at the skin tight fabric below her waist.

“Part of me wants to rip this dress right off you and part of me can’t bear to ruin such a work of art,” he pants hotly into the bare skin of her neck.  He sucks and nibbles on her pulse point until she shudders with pleasure  

 

“Don’t... you...  _ mm _ !... dare,” she whispers back, but what does she really care about the dress? She’ll just magic it back together. 

 

“Or else what?” he asks, and then he does it, ripping at the scraps of lace covering her chest, the teasing display of skin she used to love tempting her victims with…

 

And he just goes along and breaks right through it, and he’s devouring her, and she should definitely be threatening his life right now, but she’s wet and hot between her thighs, and she can’t begin to care.  

 

“You’ll pay for that later,” she mutters halfheartedly, and he just chuckles, his mouth doing delicious things to her exposed breasts, murmuring  _ Yes, gods, please, punish me.  _

 

She’s gasping for breath, and the pent up lust inside her combined with how he’s working her up right now, and the constrained breathing due to the corset has her dizzy and drunk in pleasure, and at this moment all she can focus on is the feeling of him against her.

 

She palms the back of his head and pushes down.  He lets out an indulgent moan and lets her bring him to his knees in front of her.

 

His hands skim up her back on the way down, and she feels his nimble fingers undoing her corset.  She wants to protest, wants to keep this powerful dress on as long as she can, but suddenly her lungs can fill with air, her bruised ribs scream relief, and the idea of being out of it seems much more enjoyable.

 

He lifts up the skirt of her dress and moans at the sight of her, completely bare, with no underclothes to speak of.

 

That had been an interesting secret to keep through their stroll.

 

He doesn't bother taking the dress off, just dives underneath the thick velvet and brings his mouth to her sex.

 

She throws back her head and lets it hit the cool wood behind her as her hands card through his hair.

 

He's eating at her like he always does, in that unrelenting ravenous manner, licking through folds and swirling around her clit, moaning at how wet she it, and it's  _ good,  _ it's very good, feels amazing….

 

But he's  half underneath the thick velvet of her dress, and she can't see his face like this, nor hear his muffled whimpers, and that's... not ideal either.

 

The dress will have to go, she thinks under the delirious,blissful pulsing through her nerve endings.  She braces herself harder against the door, but her knees are already giving, already feeling dizzy and weightless.  She won't be able to stand much longer, she was already dizzy from lack of oxygen thanks to that damned corset, and combined with the thigh-trembling pleasure Robin’s giving her with his tongue and the precarious heels she's in... she knows she won't stay standing before he can bring her to orgasm.

 

She has to sit down.

 

But that gives her an idea...

 

“I want... Robin, I want you on Snow’s throne...” she gasps, and when there is no response, she taps him, shakes at his shoulders, which has him stopping the delightful movements of his tongue and peering back at her.  

 

“What?” he asks.  He's red faced from having his face buried underneath the thick fabric, a little sweaty, and just seeing how hard he's been working for her has her feeling warm and soft inside.

 

“I want you on her throne,” she responds, stroking his cheek lightly.  

 

“Oh  _ fuck,” _  he mutters, “please, lead the way.”

 

But this time she poofs them right to the throne room.  She poofs her dress away too, so she's sitting there, on Snow’s royal throne, naked with her legs spread, Robin kneeling before her.

 

She smiles at him and leans back on the throne, drapes her left leg daintily over the carved arm of the chair, and then once again palms his head and pushes it between her thighs.  

 

“Eat,” she says in a voice far too breathless to sound commanding.

 

He goes willingly, lapping up her wetness, lips skimming over dampened thighs first, each pass of his tongue making her ever more sensitive as he avoids her clit for a while, draws the pleasure out, makes her more desperate for it.

 

“Do you have any idea how sexy you look right now?” he groans into her sex, staring up at her in a way that almost looks predatory. 

 

“Robin,” she breathes, “make me come.”

 

“Yes, my queen,” he moans.  That... shouldn't be as irresistable as it is, she is so different from Regina in that respect, she actually  _ likes  _ her title, she doesn't love it being used  _ all  _ the time, but using it now, here, it's enough to have her body trembling already.  His lips and tongue are finally where she needs him, doing delicious things to her clit, making her whole body tingle warmly.

 

He's  _ good  _ at this, has obviously had enough practice to work out a move, a series of movements and swipes of his tongue that are different and varied enough to keep her body guessing

 

She gasps and sighs, tugs at his hair, hips rolling into his mouth as she grinds against his tongue.  

 

“That's it—- mm!   _ Fuck _ , yes, like  _ that...  _ don't stop, don't stop making me feel--oh!”

 

She gets the sudden urge to look down, to look at him kneeling in front of her.  She catches his eyes immediately, mouth hungry and moving sloppily between her legs, but eyes completely focused on her own.  He's been looking at  _ her _ this whole time, and apparently already knows her body so well he can rest his eyes on her face while he eats at her.  There's something undeniably intimate about that, but Regina puts that out of her mind for now, focuses on how provocative it is, being watched from this position, how she can see the lust pent up and looming in his eyes,  _ feel  _ how badly he wants her as he -- _ ohfuckinggodthatsit! _

 

She feels the soft vibrations of a laugh against her, just a second, but she's gripping his head tighter, legs open wide, wanting all of him, everything he can give her. 

 

She feels fingers circling her entrance, and he stops licking at her for just long enough to ask, “Would you like my fingers, my queen?”

 

“Mm, yessss!” Her hips are rolling in a steady rhythm now, gaining friction against his tongue, and she wants his fingers too, wants to clamp down on them as she—

 

Robin thrusts in two fingers in one quick, smooth movement.  He's crooked them just the way he knows she likes (those fast romps in the forest have done wonders for their ability to give each other what they need in record time), and then he's moving slowly and deeply in her while his tongue darts and presses and swirls on her swollen, aching clit.  

 

“You're going to make me come,” she moans, “soon, so soon, keep going, I—”

 

She opens her legs further and holds his head against her, rocks into him and god, that's good, so good, just needs to be a little—

 

“Faster,” she breathes, and it sounds like a plea, except that a queen does  _ not  _ beg, not ever. But god, the way he feels, at this moment, she would do almost anything to keep  _ this _ .  

 

He thrusts his fingers faster at the same time he quickens the movements of his tongue against her, and fuck, he's reaching in that spot that ignites her, has warmth pooling low in her belly and spreading with every thrust…

 

“Mm, Robin, you feel— I need—”

 

“I know, gorgeous, I know,” he raps against her, “gonna make you come, don't worry…”

 

He switches her up, gives her those firm, slow licks that make her shiver.  And when he wraps his lips around her clit and sucks, every nerve ending lights up, and she feels those little spasms start inside her, and oh fuck, fuck, right there…

 

Orgasm bursts inside of her, blossoms and spreads molten warmth inside her, it feels so fucking good, soothes the throbbing ache that had been building from the moment they stepped foot in the realm.

 

Robin doesn't let up, keeps eating and fucking at her, until it's too much, until she shoves him from between her legs, still trying to catch her breath.

 

He smiles up at her devilishly, lips coated with her own arousal, and Regina drinks in the sinfulness of the moment, here in the throne room of her so-called step-daughter.  She stretches and lets out a little giggle, soaking in the serenity of the afterglow.

 

He smiles back at her and surprises her by asking,  “Do you know how many times I've dreamt of doing this, here?”

 

“Oh, please tell me you didn't dream of fucking Snow White on her royal throne,” Regina groans, “I don't think I will ever be able to look at you the same—”

 

“No royal in particular, and never Snow.  I believe it was King Richard’s wife that brought it on,” he says with a smile. 

 

“Queen Aria,” Regina chuckles, righting herself on the throne.  “She was... interesting.”

 

“She pardoned me when I was a boy of about 16.  I was set to spend a week in the gallows for theft, but considering my age…” He shrugs.  “She made me kneel in front of her and put my head on her lap and promise I would never steal again.  I made such false promises while she stroked my hair and told me it wasn't too late to turn my life around.  She may have meant it maternally but as a lad of 16 I did not take it as such.” He winks at her.  “And thus I had wet dream after wet dream of pleasing the queen right here on her throne.  Sometimes with an audience, so if the mood ever strikes…” 

 

Only  _ he _ would suggest something like that, something so public and debaucherous. Regina raises her eyebrows and smiles.  “I'll consider it.  But for now,  _ I've  _ always wanted to do something.”

 

She poofs them then, transports them to Snow’s bedchambers.

 

It's... well, very Snow White.  Flowers and birds cover the walls and the comforter on the bedspread.  God, it's as if she hadn't aged since she was 16.

 

Regina doesn't hate Snow — she can admit that to herself… so this desire to defile her bedroom, it's not out of hatred or revenge.  It's purely because she finds the idea downright comical.  And knowing Snow, this poor bed has never experienced sex that isn't absolutely boring, and she owes it to the room and the bed to give a good performance.

 

Robin surveys the room with wide eyes, an amused smirk on his mouth.  “I feel like I'm in the bedroom of a 12 year old,” he mutters, “If I weren't turned on to the point of pain, this room might have killed the mood.”

 

“Turned on to the point of pain?” Regina asks, gripping at the waistband of his pants and pulling him flush against her.  He is hard in his trousers, solid and pulsing through the fabric, and she smirks in satisfaction.

 

“You just made a fantasy of mine come true and I had...  _ mm _ !... time to do you right…” His eyes go shut and his jaw drops as she strokes him through his pants.

 

“Oh, you like taking your time, do you?” she purrs while unbuttoning his shirt.  

 

“Love spending as much time between your legs as you'll let me,” he answers in shaky breaths, “you're so gorgeous from there, you've no idea…”

 

He's letting her take control, letting her work him up as he stays somewhat passive, and that's... unusual for him, is more reminiscent of his doppelgänger.  

 

She usually prefers the more aggressive approach, but there's something about this moment that makes his restraint sexier. Perhaps because she can  _ see  _ how hard he's holding back.  Perhaps because he had just shared a very intimate fantasy of his, a fantasy where he was under the Queen's command, and  _ this  _ feels like part of it.

 

And she'd like to play along.

 

She takes off his shirt and indulges in the sight of him, planting soft bites along the muscles of his chest, letting her hand skim down the middle of his torso down to his belly button.  He shivers, and it thrills her.

 

And then she unlaces his trousers, and he groans and thrusts his hips forward as if on reflex.

 

“Eager,” Regina whispers, kissing his mouth with a soft gentleness not befitting the mood.  He wants hard and rough and passionate, and oh, he will get it, but she intends to play with him first.

 

“I wasn't lying when I said there was pain,” he grunts, “I've been hard for you for that entire god damned hike through the forest, and then I got to taste you... Regina, a man can only take so much…”

 

He still has his boots on, and undressing him seems... far more complicated than she wants.  So she magics the rest of it off.

 

He lets out a loud whoosh of air when he realizes what she's done, nodding his approval (there's an agreement that she not use magic on him without asking first, but it seems this is an exception).

 

“Lay down on the bed,” she directs, pointing to the tacky floral bedspread.

 

He does, and she throws a fireball into the fireplace, and draws the curtains shut.  The room is now dimmed, with just the faint hint of sun peering through dark curtains, and the subtle light of the fire.  

 

She kneels between his legs and smiles, looking at his throbbing erection.  She strokes him, firm but slow, revelling in the way his hips jerk up into her touch.

 

“Need you,” he gasps, “Please, gods, please, Regina…”

 

He's never begged before, not in this way, where he sounds so desperate for it.  The power she feels over him thrills her, but there's something else, a little undercurrent of pleasure in knowing that he  _ trusts  _ her, she thinks.  He's letting her take control now, even though it's out of his comfort zone to do so.

 

She smiles tenderly at him.  “Call me Your Majesty,” she breathes.  “Now, this,” she takes him in her hand again, “is in some need of attention, isn't it?”

 

“Gods, yes,” Robin moans.  She only need take her hand away for an instant before he catches on and corrects himself.  “Yes, Your Majesty,” he breaths, “Please, I've wanted you all day, I—”

 

“I told you to spend our time in the woods taking in our surroundings, did I not?” she asks in a firm voice, still stroking him, slowly, enough to work him up but not to push him over the edge.

 

“Mm, yes! You did, you did…”

 

“And you chose to spend the whole time staring at  _ me,  _ didn't you?”

 

“Yessss — gods, you feel amazing!-- Yes, Your Majesty, I wanted you so bad, kept staring at you in that tight dress... mm! You looked so tantalizing... so bloody sexy...”

 

“You should have listened to me,” she coos.  “You'd be in far less need now… you wouldn't be aching for it…”

 

“Mhm…” he grunts, “but that would have been far less fun for me… it was worth it...”

 

“Was it?” she asks, looking down at his throbbing erection with curiosity.  “Or are you only saying that because you know I'm going to ride you like there's no tomorrow?”

 

He chuckles, a short little thing, and then he’s serious again.  He's too gone for humor or banter, it appears, so he counters with an aroused, thick-voiced, “Gods, you've no idea how much I want to be inside you now…”

 

“But you didn't listen to me,” she reminds him, “and there must be consequences…”

 

Her hands leave his shaft in favor of his balls, cupping and squeezing in a way that has him squirming and moaning.  Her other hand travels up his body, her fingertips reaching a nipple and giving it a fond twist. 

 

He likes that, it’s something she’d never explored with the other Robin, but this one happens to like his nipples being teased.  It has him arching his back and spilling out curse words left and right, but he does not reach for her, does not reach for himself.  He lets her control him.

 

“I think I should get to play with you for a while.”  She smiles when he gulps and nods.

 

She works him up for a while, licks and sucks his nipples, kisses down his torso, takes him in her mouth for a stroke or two and then releases, licks down his shaft and gives his balls a nice tongue-ing, works him up just enough to get closer to the edge without fear of actually falling over.  It’s still exciting, seeing him clutching the bedding and thrashing his head.  Sex with each other is still relatively new, and  _ this,  _ sucking his cock, well, that’s quite new.  

 

He’s writhing underneath her, letting out little whimpered pants each time she teases him by releasing his cock from her mouth and hands, denying him her touch for a few minutes.  He looks... really irresistible like this, his eyes opening wide and then closing them tight when she does something particularly devilish, his jaw quivering, Adam's apple bobbing with every hard swallow…Then there's the sounds he's making, little whimpers and gasps spliced between deeper moans.

 

His hand falls over his eyes, rubs aggressively over them and up over his forehead, through his hair, while he shouts “Oh please, Your Majesty, don't stop…”

 

But she does, oh she does, she releases his cock from her hands and crawls up his body to kiss him.  She could say it's part of the game, that she's torturing him more, drawing this out as long as possible... but the truth is that he looks really passionate and sexy and she really, really wants to kiss him.  

 

She can't remember wanting to kiss someone so much. At least, not before the other version of Robin set foot in her life.  Sex, the desire to obtain a release, that was always there, but the need to kiss, to be  _ close,  _ that's on the list of things she never thought she'd have again, and she still can't believe she does.

 

He moans into the kiss, grabs at the back of her head and presses into her.  Regina pulls away, shaking her head teasingly.  She is in control here, not him.

 

“Sorry... I... you feel so good, I can't help myself…” he sighs, he moves up to meet her lips for an instant but catches himself, lays back down on the pillow and waits for her.

 

“That's right, lay down right like that,” she directs, “don’t move.”

 

“I want to touch you,” he begs.  “Let me—”

 

“Here…” She grabs his hand, and moves it, down to the apex of her thighs where she’s wet and ready for him.  She lets herself rock into his palm for a few moments, lets her juices coat his fingers and palm, moaning as the heel of his hand presses perfectly into her clit.  And then, just as soon as she’s given this to him, she takes it away, moving out of his hand with a coy smile.

 

She brings his hand to her lips, runs her tongue over them for show, and then takes his ring finger  to her mouth, sucking and licking her own wetness off it.  She closes her eyes to take in the taste, fighting a smile as she hears his strangled moan.  

 

When she’s cleaned his finger thoroughly, she offers the index back to him, pressing it against his lips.  He parts his mouth with a groan.  He sucks at it in earnest, looking the very picture of aroused.  He releases his finger with a wet pop.  “Tastes so good,” he murmurs, and then a plea, “let me touch you more, let me…”

 

Regina just shakes her head, shimmies down his body, until she’s back between his legs with his hard, swollen cock in her hands.  She smiles up at him innocently and directs, “You’re not allowed to come.”

 

And then she takes him in her mouth.

It's taken her a while to enjoy this, but she does enjoy it now, just as she had when she was part of Regina.  She enjoys the way he trembles at her touch, the odd sense of power in having his most sensitive parts in her hands and mouth.  He's always so grateful. The other times she's done this for even a few seconds in foreplay, he's told her how brilliant she is, how much he loves her mouth, and how it makes him feel, and it just has her wanting to do it more…

 

Still, she's only given his cock a few test bobs, but she's going to rectify that now.  She's going to blow him in earnest, try to make him come as hard as she can and see how well he's able to resist.

 

She works slowly back up his cock, licking and then giving the head a firm suck before releasing him from her mouth, licking the very tip before diving back for more.  She uses her hand to slide back the foreskin, kisses the tip of him sweetly.  And then swirls her tongue around the underside of the head, sensitive for every man, she'd imagine, but particularly so for him.  

 

He groans and lifts off the bed at that, curses and thrashes a bit.  “Feels so good, mm!  Re-- _ Your Majesty,  _ gods if you keep that up I, I won't be able to—”

 

She has pity on him, works her tongue down the base, sucking as she takes him as far down her throat as she can.  She's relaxed now, has her magic, has a whole castle to herself, and the beautiful man under her is completely at her mercy.  And she finds her throats opens, accepts him as he goes further down than anything should, particularly anything this thick, but as her nose reaches his pubic bone, a sense of pride she didn't expect to feel swells up inside her.

 

“Oh, gods! fucking hell... didn't know you could do this it's so good, so, so good, I—ohhh!” 

 

She loves that she can make him feel this good, to the point where he loses control of his mouth and lets loose these terribly sexy sounds, it sends chills down her spine, has her feeling bold and powerful.

 

She laves her tongue back up his shaft and then takes him back in, repeating the action,swirling around the head at every pass.  And it's not long before those moans turn more desperate,until  his legs twitch and his hips buck.

 

“Gods, I— fuck, Regina, gorgeous, you've got to stop I'm—”

 

She releases him from his lout immediately, giving his cock a light, playful smack.  

 

“ _ Your Majesty, _ ” she corrects.  She expects to hear him argue with her, or refuse to correct himself with her title.  This Robin is not quite so willing to accept her orders as the old Robin, after all.

 

But it seems he's too far gone to argue, moans out a “Your Majesty, please!”

 

She smiles and wipes excess saliva  from the edge of her mouth, and offers a throaty, “I'll go slow.”

 

She does, takes him in at a snail's pace, tongue sliding leisurely against that throbbing vein down his shaft, and his hips are jutting, legs damn near spasming.  He moves his hands to her hair.  Doesn’t pull on it, doesn't try to direct her movements, just combs an appreciative hand through her locks, fingers scratching at her scalp in a way that sends shivers through her body, reminds her of how badly she needs her  _ own  _ release.  

 

“Fuck, you're so bloody gorgeous,” he moans, and  _ god _ , that is not helping, the warm liquid feeling in her belly grows, her clit starts to throb a bit with neglect.

 

She sucks on him sloppily, and it's delightfully uncouth, letting the noisy slurps and sucks echo through Snow White's bedchamber. 

 

When his moans and sighs become more desperate, begin to sound more like urgent whimpers, she pulls back, gives his cock one last, firm suck, and lets her tongue roll off of him, slowly, to the tip.

 

She could have easily finished him, she thinks, and she will finish him with her mouth, one day, soon.  But she's been thinking of fucking him in a soft bed for weeks now, of riding him without hurting her knees, or being under him without throwing out her back.  And she's aching for it, has been for a while now, so if she's running the show tonight, there's no reason to deny herself any more.

 

She looks at him in the eyes, keeps her expression as stern and stone cold serious as possible, warning, “Don't you dare come until I do.”

 

And then she straddles him, lines him up with her core, and impales herself on him.

 

This body is new, in some ways, and Robin is the first and only man to be inside it.  The thought of that is so delightfully  _ adorable  _ to her, that after all her sexual conquests, the Queen ends up losing her virginity to her true love. 

 

And she can't imagine bedding another ever, quite frankly, so it's likely this will be it for her.  She has the memories of those other men who were not worthy of her, but none of the markings left by them.  So sex, this sex, is new to her body still, has her muscles stretching in the best way to let him inside, as his groans echo her soft sigh of relief.

 

He's already a bit too far gone, it appears, he's got a palm over each eye and is biting his lip so hard he may draw blood.

 

“Fuck, you're so wet,” he croaks, “Gods, please— I want to make you come, please go slow, please...”

 

She's never been one for fulfilling requests, and certainly isn't one to follow orders, so she does the opposite, and takes him hard and fast.  She swivels those hips until she's able to find the right angle, then braces her hands on his chest and fucks him wildly.

 

The pace is fast and satisfying, but not nearly as satisfying as the sound of Robin pleading her to stop. 

 

“Please, gods, so close, you feel— mm!  Your majesty, I   _ beg  _ you, I'm going to explode…”

 

She shows him mercy and does slow down, savors every inch of him as it slides in and out of her.

 

“Mm, that's it,” she groans, “you fill me up, so, so good..”

 

“Don't say that,” he whimpers, “I— I'm trying not to…”

 

But it's  _ fun  _ this way, so she leans over him for a second, only to nibble on his earlobe the way he loves, whispering, “You feel fucking fantastic.  Best I've ever had.”

 

And she means it, truly.  He may be tied for first, but he's tied with a version of him that shares the exact same body and cock.  She always thought it'd be a betrayal to admit how much she loved sex with this version, but somehow... it feels oddly freeing to admit it.

 

He seems to appreciate the significance of the few words, and he moans back a simple “You're the best I've ever had, too,” but he squeezes her hips with a sort of affection that warms her heart.

 

She fucks him at a rather lazy pace, watching his face as he struggles to control himself, trying not to rock his hips in to meet hers (and failing, of course).  On a particularly hard thrust, her insides go molten, white hot currents of electricity dart through her, she feels her muscles contracting around him, and that's it, she's close now, so close… just needs a bit more, a bit faster...

 

“Slow... down... please…” he's never looked more desperate, vulnerable, with his teeth clenched, eyes screwed shut.  He's not going to come, she's sure of it, it's going to hurt him for a bit, but their releases will be worth it.

 

“Can't,” she says breathless, “you feel amazing, I can't stop…” She fucks him faster now, desperate for her own release.

 

She doesn't expect him to flip her.  Not at all.  And she should be absolutely  _ livid  _ when he throws her on the bed while they are still joined and takes the position above her, but, well, he looks so fucking delectable, sweaty and red faced and almost  _ angry,  _ hot lust radiating off him as he stares down at her ravenously.

 

“Sorry,  _ Your Majesty _ ,” he groans, “but you've no idea how stunning you look on top of me, and how damned perfect that cunt of yours is when it's squeezing around me,  _ gods!” _

 

She should protest, but she won't, because he's shifted so he's hitting that spot inside her that has everything building at a fast pace, pleasure rising in her like a tidal wave.

 

“Oh, fuck, you better make me come... I..”

 

“I can... I can control myself like this,” he grunts, “tell me what you want, my queen.”

 

“Faster,” she breaths.  And he lets out a strangled cry, ruts himself into position, and takes her hard and fast.

 

He's got the angle just right, so every slide of his cock has him grinding against her clit, too, and it's  _ perfect,  _ he's perfect, and “Mm!  Yes, like that—  _ oh _ Robin!”

 

“Gods, you look beautiful from every angle— fuck!” His eyes screw shut and he adds a pained moan. “Can't even look at you like this, I'll come.  Do you even know?  Mm, so gorgeous, want to make you come so badly…”

 

She loves this, loves the throaty, gravelly sound of his voice when he's this close.  Her fingernails press and scratch down the smooth, sweat-sheened skin of his back, her legs wrap tightly around his waist, and he lets out this little moan of pleasure and pain that sounds so animalistic and  _ raw.   _ That's what does her in, has those waves of pleasure crashing down on her, submerging her in pure bliss.  She screams, writhes and thrashes underneath him, and he takes it in, murmuring words of affection as he fucks her at just the right angle.

She rides out the orgasm like that, pulsing around his cock as her mind goes pleasantly blank, only focusing on the feeling of it all and the sound of his voice as he tells her how much he loves seeing her come, how heavenly she looks, and how she does things to him no one else on earth can do.

 

When she's able to catch her breath, she reaches up and pulls him into a kiss, then skims her foot down his thigh.  

 

“Fuck me like you want to,” she urges, when their mouths part.  “Fuck me exactly how you want to…”

 

She's surprised yet again when he gives her back control.

 

“I want you on top,” he rasps, and she nods, lets him flip them back.  They don't stay joined this time, she's not wound as tight, so he springs loose for a second, and he gives a little grunt of discomfort the second he slides out of her.

 

She takes him in her hand and angles him back inside her, quickly, and then she moves on top of him, gives him that brisk pace that had driven him mad before.  

 

He doesn't shut his eyes this time, he rakes them over her, and gropes at her haphazardly, hands skimming to cup and squeeze her breasts, her hips, her ass.

 

“Oh fuck, this is— gods, you're amazing!” his hand leaves her ass to cup her cheek tenderly, too tender for the moment, for the way he's looking at her.  “I'll never forget how hard you came, gorgeous,” he moans, “never harder to hold back than when I felt you clenching around me... your cunt is incredible... so tight, warm, so fucking set, I — ohfuckinggodsI’mgonna—”

 

She can feel him thrusting in her at a hard, erratic pace, those signs she now knows is  him spilling in her, and lets out a shuddering breath.

 

And then she leans forward and kisses him, with him still inside her (he can stay there til he softens and falls out, she wants every ounce of intimacy she can milk from this moment).

 

They trade sloppy, lazy kisses for a while, until his breath evens and his heart beats at a normal rate.

 

And then he mutters a teasing “Well then…”

 

She giggles, nuzzling against his neck.  She could sleep right here, on Snow's soft mattress, amongst the thick, downy blankets, beside a crackling fire with the man she cares more than she will admit right next to her.  She feels so safe, so warm.  So at ease, for the first time in forever.

 

“Would you like to live here, instead of your castle?” Robin asks.  He's been stroking her hair softly, and he soothing motions had almost put her to sleep.

 

But his question startles and puzzles her.  “No…” she says, a fog of confusion clouding her mind.  “Why do you ask?  Is there... do  _ you  _ not want to go to my castle?”

 

He smiles at her fondly, presses a kiss to her nose.  He's so damned gentle in moments like this, it kills her.  “No, I want to live where you are most comfortable.”

 

She tenses, because he  _ knows.   _ That's the thing about Robin — with every version of Robin, it seems.  He can read her so well that it's useless to try to hide anything from him.  

 

“Why did you bring me here instead of your castle?”

 

“It was much closer,” she cannot help but say.  And that's true, it's absolutely true, but it's not the  _ whole  _ reason.  The  _ whole  _ reason takes more courage to reveal than she currently has.

 

He looks at her sweetly, head tilted, eyebrow raised and draws out a cautious “Regina…”  It's all he need say to convey the point — he knows she’s lying, and she won't try to argue with him too hard.

 

“It  _ was  _ closer,” Regina insists, but then, “and there are... issues with my castle.”

 

“What type of issues?” 

 

She takes a deep breath in and prepares herself to have the conversation she's been dreading.  And then... she loses her nerve.  “Issues that... make things complicated.” He gives her a look, one that almost looks hurt at the prospect that she's still holding back.  And she doesn't want him to be offended, so she adds a soft, “there are bad memories.  Things I just didn't want to confront, or talk about.  Not just yet.  I just wanted to be close to you, enjoy a bed without… all of that hanging in the air.”

 

“Ah,” he says simply, popping a kiss to her brow.  “If you would prefer, we could stay here—”

 

“No, I want to go  _ home _ ,” she insists.  She smiles, thinking of introducing him to everything.  It wasn't all terrible, to be honest.  There are parts she's oddly proud of, and then there's that apple tree, her spell room, the royal stables... yes, she wants to go home.  “There are things I want you to see, and share.  I just... when we get there, let me lead?  Let me take you where I want you... and we will tackle the other parts of the castle on my time.  Can you... is that alright?”

 

“Can I let you lead?” He asks, that devilish little smirk overtaking his whole face.  “I think it's pretty clear I don't have a problem with that, isn’t it?” He motions between them, a subtle reminder of their roles they just shared moments ago.  She bites her lip to keep from laughing because, yes, he did let her lead that, didn't he?

 

“Alright then,” she says, feeling the weight of uncertainty falling off her shoulders.  “Tomorrow.  We set out on foot for my castle.  See more of the kingdom.” Her smile is big and sincere.  “The sooner the better, actually.  There’s only so much of Snow’s... decorating skills I can subject myself to.”

 

Robin rolls his eyes and laughs, squeezes her tightly against him in a bear hug, then gives her lips a light peck.  “As Her Majesty wishes.” She settles against him, head laying on his chest as she listens to his steady heartbeat.  Minutes pass, and she's nearly taken under by sleep when she hears his whispered words.  She's not even sure he means her to hear them.  

 

“I'm quite fond of you, you know, Regina.  Far more than I ever felt possible with anyone. What you mean to me... it's hard to put into words.”

 

She sleeps in his arms that night, for the first time, their limbs tangled around each other.  And she realizes this is deep, and real, and yes, just a bit frightening, but it is also  _ wonderful.  _

 


	4. Family

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On the way to the Evil Queen's Castle, Robin and Regina stumble upon Roland Hood.

They end up spending another day at Snow's castle. Sleeping in, making love by the fire, it is all... quite a perfect holiday. But now it's time to show him around the woods of the Enchanted Forest, and ultimately her castle. She's oddly excited to show him her former home, now that they've cleared the air. So her morning is full of giddy anticipation for what may come. And then everything changes in a moment, as she hears a sound that makes her blood run cold.

She'd recognize that laugh anywhere. It's a squeal, and a long giggle, and then a Put me downnnnnn Johnnn!!! that has her tackling Robin and throwing him off the trail into a dense gathering of shrubs. It's almost comical, she supposes, as she bum rushes him, headfirst, and rolls him out of eyesight of the approaching group.

It's not the first time she's been... rough with Robin, and he takes it well, he really does, rubbing his head while she grabs his hand and leads him uphill, deeper into the woods. He mutters, “I truly hope that was necessary.”

“It was,” she hisses, “Now shut up.”

She can't help herself; she has to look. She pulls back thick, leaf laden branches of a nearby shrub and watches as the boy skips down the trail.

“Uncle Johnnnnn you cheated at hide and seek!” he exclaims, “That's not fair!”

“I can't just close my eyes and let you roam around the forest!” he argues, “that game doesn't work here.”

Roland pouts adorably, once again chiding John for being such a rule breaker, and her heart melts at the tender moment. God, she wishes she was there, wishes she could hold him again, trade secrets and eskimo kisses and feed him treats…

“Who are they and why in the hell are we hiding from them?” Robin looks positively pissed. “You've got magic, I've got my bow, that man is the size of a barn door and I doubt he could move quick enough to avoid an arrow, this is ridiculous, I'm going back on the trail.”

“Nooo!” she whispers. “That's Robin’s child, those are his men.”

His eyes go wide for a second, then slant, and he rolls them, looking absolutely livid. “For fuck’s sake you could have cracked one of my ribs over this, who cares if it's awkward for them to see you…”

“I'm not hiding from them,” Regina explains. “I'm hiding from Roland. His son.”

“We are hiding from a child?” Robin asks, dumbfounded. “This is ridiculous, I'm going back on the trail, we've wasted enough time —”

“Don't you dare,” she threatens, “If you even go near that child…”

“I don't care about the kid, I'm not threat to him. Unless you think he's a threat to me. What is he going to do, bite me with his baby teeth?”

“He'll think you're his papa, you idiot,” she explains.

“I gathered that, and so what?” He asks, agitated. “I'm not going to spend my life running away from a toddler because I happen to look like the boy’s father. He should learn one way or another. I'm off…”

“You'll traumatize him!” she exclaims, because he has to understand, doesn't he? How much it will hurt the boy, how can he be so callous... how can he care so little…?

“Yes, well, his father died at the hands of Hades himself, and some crazy witch had a sister he's now never going to see, and he's jumped more realms than anyone has in a lifetime. I think he's been traumatized already, a little more won't hurt him.”

Robin is walking with purpose back to that trail, and Regina made a promise to him, to never use magic without his consent. She doesn't want it to be like this, doesn't want to use magic on people she cares for, but, well, at this instant she doesn't care much for him at all, so why not?

She waves her hand and freezes him dead in his tracks, before he can traumatize the poor boy.

And then she follows Roland a bit, hidden in the thick foliage that surrounds the trail, and then she lets him go, let's tears fall and wanders back to Robin, releasing him from his frozen state.

“What the hell?” he asks, massaging the arm that had been held in the air for the last fifteen minutes. He probably can't even feel it anymore, and Regina doesn't even care.

“If you're going to act like a pathetic piece of trash you can't be upset when I treat you as such,” Regina snarls at him. “You were going to hurt that child, for what? For fun?”

“I was going to go about my business and not spend my life ducking around corners to hide from a child,” he exclaims.

“It's a big realm,” she reminds him, “you'll probably never see him again, so why not just this one time consider someone else's feelings?”

“Oh I highly doubt that will be the last we see of him,” Robin groans, “you will probably be meeting up with him soon, won't you? I saw the way you looked at him, it's like a mother hen looking after her baby chick. It's just a matter of time. And then where the hell will I be?”

“I assume you'll be off in the corner somewhere licking your wounds, feeling pathetic that you are jealous of a child!” she screams back.

“I'm not jealous; I'm annoyed. I don't like children, Regina. And I do like you, but you've taken me to a realm where the boy exists, and...was that your plan all along? You'd spend your days playing mother while I go off to wherever the fuck you send me, and then, what, beckon for me at night when you need your fun? Like some fucking pet you can just lock away when it's convenient?”

“Oh, you wish I liked you enough to treat you as a pet!” Regina snarks, “And as for the rest, this argument is irrelevant because I'll never see Roland again. I won't risk it, not when you're still here. So congratulations, you win. I've given up yet another loved one for you, are you happy?”

She hates him, at this moment, hates him as much as she hates herself. He's not her Robin, he's a pathetic, twisted shell of the man she loved. The man she loved would never… never be so callous about the feelings of a child. She was an idiot for ever letting herself feel so much for a man who obviously is nothing compared to the real Robin.

She doesn't speak to him the entire rest of the way to the castle.

When they enter through the gates she mutters, “Pick a room, any room but mine. Take your own damn tour of the castle. I'm tired, and I'm looking forward to finally being able to sleep on my own bed. Alone.” She was supposed to share with him, tell him secrets, things she's proud of and things she's ashamed, and yes, scared of...but instead there's only an unsettling, cool distance blowing between them. And the last thing she wants to do with him is talk about painful memories, so she welcomes that distance now.

She stalks off to her chambers, missing the way Robin’s face falls ever so slightly as she storms away from him.

.::.

She is being ridiculous, this woman.

Yesterday they were happily fucking in Queen Snow’s’ bed, and everything was perfect, the future looked bright. It seemed like he was enough, like she truly wanted him, cared for him. And gods, he felt the same about her. He'd been so enamored, he didn't see this coming at all.

He knew it wouldn’t be easy, courting the Evil Queen. He figured he’d have to deal with a violent temper and an insatiable thirst for revenge (both of which are incredible turn-ons to him), but he didn’t expect this. He didn’t expect she’d have this incredible soft spot for children, and expect him to follow suit.

He thought she differed from Regina in this aspect. But he saw her, the way she looked at his child, and he’s never been so angry.

She took him to the realm where this child lived without saying a word. And had it been a coincidence that they ran into him like that? It couldn’t be. Perhaps that was the true reason they had stopped at Snow's castle first, to wait for them to be closer, so she could run into them...

After all that, all that they shared, it seems he didn't mean enough to her in the end. She wants to build a family with that boy, and she’s made it clear that that life can never include him.

Not that he’d want a life with that little shit, anyway.

He hates children. Obnoxious, loud, needy brats, all of them.

They ruin everything — and they’ve ruined this day, this day that should be quite a wonderful day. He was going to fuck her in every room of this castle she showed him, and then talk about the past, he'd get to know her more. He finds he's desperate for that, desperate to know her. He's falling fast, frankly, and it's scary but it had been bloody wonderful, and he was just starting to embrace the idea of having someone to share a life with.

Now, thanks to this Roland business, he’ll be sleeping alone for perhaps the rest of his life. And the prospect of that didn't sound nearly as lonely and awful as it does now, now that he's known what it's like to be close to another person.

He wanders through the halls of the palace, popping into every room. He’ll pick one to stay in, but so far nothing feels quite right. They feel too big.

He hadn’t meant to wander into her room.

He doesn’t have to be silent, but he’s a thief afterall, and old habits die hard. So he enters the room silently, and then he catches her.

She’s sitting in front of her mirror, but the mirror isn’t reflecting. Instead there is... a series of moving images on it. It’s enchanted with something.

He’s transfixed in the doorway, watching her watch... well, whatever it is.

She’s sniffs, and the moonlight perfectly highlights a tear falling down the profile of her beautiful face.

He can barely see the images she’s watching - but he recognizes himself in there. But it’s not him, it’s her Robin. And he’s holding a newborn, looking so happy, so grateful for the life in his arms. The child is cute, there’s no denying that. And there’s Marian, the mother of this child. That’s another punch to the gut, because he never had that, never got to love and hold Marian and feel what it was like to have her as his own. Perhaps if he had, she would have softened him. Perhaps he would have made a child with her in his realm, perhaps he’d be a natural father the way Regina is a natural mother, perhaps, perhaps….

Regina flicks her wrist to another moment in time, Robin playing with the child in the forest, with a bunch of men surrounding them, laughing and running around like fools. It’s... less obnoxious than he would have imagined it to be.

And then she spins through memories of Regina and the boy, and he feels his heart leap into this throat. The boy adored her, absolutely adored her. And how could he not, when she spoiled him like she did. Stuffing him with sweets, letting him cuddle her in bed when he had a nightmare, kissing the tip of his nose just to say hello….

It hits him then, that this is harder than he ever really imagined. He’s only considered this child thing from his perspective. He hadn't realize how much she's mourned the loss of the boy, separate and apart from mourning the loss of his father.

He is jealous, he’s jealous of a dead man and the life he never had, but secretly wanted. When he’d seen Regina look at that child with a tenderness and love, the way she’s never looked at him, it had felt like such a slap in the face. Such a rejection. Like he was yet again losing to a dead man. A dead man she loves. And sometimes he thinks he will never be able to get her to love him the way she loves his other self. It does threaten him, because he bloody cares for her, more than he’d ever care to admit.

Robin wants her to look at him the way she looks at that man who’s currently smiling back at her in the mirror. He’s never really wanted anything like that, not since the moment Marian died... but he wants it now. And he wants to earn it, to be worthy of her in that way.

But now the tender-hearted queen is crying into a mirror full of memories, because she lost everything, suddenly, tragically, and quite unjustly. She hadn’t even had time to say goodbye to the little one, and it’s so clear those two were already very attached to one another. It’s unfair, and terrible, and here she had been given a second chance, and Robin ripped it from her like the ass he is.

He’s unable to resist now, stepping further into her chamber, quietly but not exactly silently.

He’s not sure she notices him entering, until he hears her soft plea.

“Go away.”

The mirror darkens and becomes reflective again, and as he approaches her from behind, he sees her red rimmed eyes fall shut.

“No,” he answers, walking behind her and placing two firm hands on her shoulders. “I’m not leaving you this time.”

“You shouldn’t be here, this is my bed chamber. Find your own place to sleep. There are dozens of rooms.”

“I don’t want to sleep anywhere that’s not with you,” he answers softly, rubbing a hand up her neck, into the thick strands of her hair.

“Well, I don’t want to sleep with you. Not after what happened today.” She’s lost her commanding, powerful, angry voice he knows so well, and this is almost scarier, the reedy, pitchy tone that sounds tired and resigned. She’s not fighting him, not arguing, and that’s not a good thing She’s given up on him, it seems.

“I was an ass,” he admits, and she answers with a wet laugh that sounds closer to a sob. “I know to you, I’m just a version of the man you loved. I know my realm is completely fictional to you, that for some reason I am the only real thing in it... but to me, Regina, it feels real. And I feel different. And you love a man who is not me, and when I saw the way you looked at that child... and then discovered it was his child, it’s yet another reminder that I can’t be the person you need me to be.”

“I don’t need you to be him.” she protests.

He wishes that were true but it doesn’t feel that way. Still, he won’t argue with her when she’s so upset, so he gives her a pass. “Maybe not. But you’d be happier with him.”

She doesn’t answer, just looks down at her vanity. It’s true, it’s obviously true, and it hurts them both to have him say it and have her silence all but confirms it.

“What was that, in the mirror?” he asks tentatively. His hand strokes at her back and she leans into the touch.

“Memories,” she says softly. “I had to give Roland a memory curse to make sure he didn’t remember what Zelena did to him-- for those months when he thought his mother was back? And Zelena had threatened so many things, but the easiest way to hurt them would be through a memory spell. So Robin asked if there was any way I could preserve their memories.” She shrugs. “It wasn’t that hard. I didn't think I could access them through the mirror... and sorting them…. that’s difficult, but…”

“Can you put them in me?” he asks.

She spins around to look at him, shocked, her mouth agape. “You… want his memories?’

“You could erase my memories and replace them with his. You’d get him. And frankly he seems to have a much nicer life than I have, I wouldn’t mind at all.”

It seems like the perfect solution, and he’s quite proud of himself, but Regina, well, Regina looks horrified.

“I don’t want to fill you with his memories as if you are some sort of empty vessel!” she yells, “How could you ever think I would want that? That I would care so little for you that I’d just want you to… disappear?”

“Come on now,” Robin argues, “if killing me meant bringing him back, wouldn’t you do it? You could have Roland, you could have a kind man, a man worthy of you, you could have—”

“You must really think little of me,” she spits a him, rising from her seat to pace. “You think I care so little for the man who protected me in the forest, who made me share more than I have with… anyone? Who risked his life again and again just for me? Have you disregarded every last ounce of affection I’ve given you? Do you think I just trade kisses and soft touches with strangers when it suits my fancy? Do you think all those nights of passion were just meaningless? Maybe there was no feeling for you, Robin of Locksley, but for me—”

“I’ve never felt more,” he promises, grabbing her hand, “that’s why I’m so damn scared to lose you. I’m not afraid of much, Regina. But I’m afraid to lose you. I worry that you’ll wander off with the band of Merry Men and Roland, and there’ll be no place for me. And that’s terrifying because I like you far too much already.”

It’s a mortifying confession, has him sounding every bit the coward that he is. He's ashamed in part, but it's honest, and it seems to soften her, has her sitting on the edge of the bed looking shocked and contemplative, a quite little Oh popping out of her mouth as she stares off into space. He lets her process, lets what feels like minutes go by but is probably only a few seconds. It’s scary, having all your cards on the table like that. And knowing she might not feel the same, well, it’s the worst kind of torture.

“I care about you, too, far more than I thought I would,” she says softly, looking up at him. “There are things I like more about you than… than my Robin. You enjoy my magic, you don’t distrust it. You are more spontaneous, god, we used to fight like cats and dogs over his need to always have a plan of attack. I like to improvise, like you do. I like that you aren’t always so good, because that was one part of Robin that always made me feel like I wasn’t good enough, wasn’t pure enough for him. We fit. Regina fit better with the old Robin, I’m not a good match for him.”

“Truly?” Robin asks, moving to sit next to her. He senses it coming, the lingering but in the air. And he braces himself, waits for her to twist and tear his heart in two.

“Yes... But,” she says, smiling apologetically as he winces, “I have all my memories of motherhood, all the good and all the bad, and every memory of raising Henry, and every memory of Robin’s child, I have those. And I can give up Henry and Roland, I can, knowing they are well cared for. I trust Regina and Emma, I... want to get to the point where I trust those men, too. But it’s not only about Roland. I... I don’t hate children, Robin. I don’t know if i can spend a lifetime without them. Maybe not children of our own, but to never even have a relationship with a child of a friend, or… anything. Forever? It feels too lonely of a life for me.”

He sighs, slowly offers his hand to her, and is happy when she takes it. “I don’t want to lose you. But I also don’t want you miserable. I wouldn't leave you if you had a child to care for, if we—” It's too soon for that, much to soon, but he already knows. If she ended up pregnant he would not make any demands or requests of her, and he certainly wouldn't leave her. He'd be a good dad or he'd die trying. “What I'm saying is you should go see Roland. Go establish a relationship with him. You and I will work around it.”

He's never seen her quite as beautiful as she is now in the moonlight, staring at him incredulously. “You're sure I'm worth all of that?”

What a stupid question.

“You're the only person that matters to me, the only one in my waste of a life to mean anything to me. So yes, if it means I have to duck behind some corners a few times a week, it's a small price to pay to see you happy, and to have this,” he holds up their joined hands and stares at them pointedly.

She looks positively touched, but hesitant. And then she's shaking her head slowly. “You’re right. I don’t want to build a life or a family without you, though.” She looks down at their threaded fingers and sighs. “I truly didn’t even think about Roland when I transported us here. I just wanted to go home. But now that he’s here... I just want to look after him. But I can do that from afar, I…”

“I don’t mind, really.” Robin tells her. He untangles his hand so he can run his thumb over her cheek. “As long as you are with me, I don’t mind anything. But you don’t have to decide tonight. Think on it, yeah?”

She nods, and takes a shaky inhale in.

“You should sleep,” he soothes. “I’ll… if you want me to go, I’ll—”

“I want you to stay,” she urges, “can we— it’s been a tough day, can we just... I want to feel close to you.”

He doesn’t fight the cheesy grin that takes over his face at her words, and agrees.

They lay together in bed, cuddling like two lovesick idiots. Truly, if Locksley from two months ago could see himself now, lovingly stroking the arm of the Evil Queen, feeling his heart skip a beat everytime she shivers and moans into him… well, he would surely think someone was taking the piss with him.

He hears her breath go slow and rhythmic, watches the steady contractions of her chest, and his heart melts. She is warm and safe and home. He never took an interest in watching people sleep before, and certainly never anticipated the warmth in his chest, spreading like a well-aged whiskey. Such a nice feeling to get from just looking at someone.

He probably loves her, he realizes. And that's a bit terrifying, but well, feeling this is better than feeling nothing. And before her, that's what his life was like. A whole lot of feeling numb.

He settles against her, letting the weight of the day fall away. Robin is just starting to drift off when the mirror lights up the room.

Something in him resists the urge to wake Regina and ask why the mirror has suddenly turned on. He’s curious, investigates it himself.

Memories start to play, and for some reason he cannot look away.

.::.

When Regina wakes the next morning, hours later, she finds Robin seated by her vanity, watching the mirror play back memories of Robin - the other Robin.

She has no idea how he got the mirror to work. That magic is not easy, and that isn’t even a magic mirror, it takes work to enchant, how the fuck...?

“What do you think you are doing?” she asks, trying to keep the ice and accusation out of her tone (she fails).

Robin turns to her, paying her anger no mind. He's… preoccupied. His eyes are red and wet, perhaps due to a night spent pouring over a lit screen instead of sleeping, or else...

He speaks in a hushed whisper, transfixed on the screen. “It just started playing, Regina. It just started playing, I had to watch....”

“What are these?”

“Memories of his son.” Robin explains, “He’s a bit of a troublemaker, and quite a bit of work… but this child is… special. And gods, how he loved him.”

“It can't just play, it takes so much magic, you have to use the mirror to jump through a realm and access my vault’s mirror, and—”

She stops talking, because what's the point? He's not really paying attention. He’s entranced by the child, absolutely mesmerized.

“This is his child with Marian,” he says after a few moments. “I used to think about what it would be like, you know. If Marian and I had married, if we had had…” he trails off.

“You thought about children with Marian?”

“When I was younger,” he admits, “I always assumed we’d marry and have children. But then I lost my chance at that life, and convinced myself I didn’t want it anymore. But it… it doesn’t seem like a bad life, Regina.”

“It wasn’t,” Regina admits, rubbing his back, comforting him now.

“It feels like I lived it,” he admits meekly, and that throws her off.

“I don't understand,” she says quietly, “what do you mean—”

“I've no bloody idea what I mean. I don't understand one bit of this. Magic mirrors, copied memories... I don't understand why I'd feel the need to watch this all night, or why it would make me... feel the way I do. I don't believe in ghosts. But… do you think he... possessed me?”

Regina chuckles sadly. “Definitely not. The signs of possession are exceedingly obvious. You're not possessed. As for ghosts... I battled with the spirit of my mother. They exist, though getting to this realm is nearly impossible.”

“Then I don't understand why this is so touching to me. That I can feel every ounce of uncertainty and fear and... other things when I watch this. It... it makes no sense unless a part of me…”

He doesn't finish his thoughts, but it's obvious what he's thinking.

It's not possible. It's definitely not possible.

“How is it that I am the only one in the wish realm that was real?” He asks.

He knows she doesn't have the answer to why that is, they've discussed it. She experimented with a guard before they left, used her magic on him to see his soul… but there was nothing. Yet she could see Robin’s.

She stares at Robin blankly, trying to keep her heart from bursting out of her chest (it's knocking hard, it hurts, because this is false hope, it’s—)

He pushes her further — yet another question she does not have the answer to, “How is it that I didn't age like the others in my realm?”

She swallows heavily, “Robin, whatever you are thinking, it's not possible, and besides, I— I need to believe he is safe and in heaven, I can't think of him... hidden or trapped somewhere I just—”

“You split yourself,” he interrupts, oh and it appears a whole night alone has lent itself to crazy theories. “You have two souls now right?”

“I... I suppose…”

“How did that affect your soulmate, do you think?”

She scowls. The idea that her actions could desecrate such a beautiful soul is almost unimaginably awful to her. So she says dumbly. “It didn't affect him at all. He died.”

“Or,” Robin muses, “He split just like you had. From wherever he is. And I think... I think I'm a part of him.”

“I think you're overtired and grasping at straws,” Regina sighs, “He's... not you.”

“Nor are you Regina,” he counters, “what if I'm like you, exactly like you. A split version of him? Except...I don’t remember ever being merged.”

“It's a theory,” she starts, “but, there’s nothing to suggest that, and I’m not sure why you’re bringing this up—”

“Because…” he clears his throat and looks at her. “I feel things... strongly with you. It's very unusual for me, but I feel them. And you make me want to be a better person. But…” he turns his attention to the mirror, “I should feel nothing for this child. I’ve never been too terribly interested in children before. And yet... I feel the same about him.”

“That’s impossible,” Regina murmurs, because it is, he's making her hope for things that she should not. “Are you sure you just haven't convinced yourself of this... because you want me to be happy, or…?”

“I don't know what it is,” Robin concedes, a hand up in resignation. “And I doubt this makes you happy. But something turned this thing on when you were asleep but I was not. And I was... unspeakably drawn to it.”

She's looking over the mirror carefully, searching for a sign, when she sees it.

It looks like it was always there, etched in the wood of the mirrors frame.

A feather.

She traces the curves of the carving- it feels old, and worn, not new, and perhaps she never noticed, perhaps all these years it was there. Just something she ignored, had taken for granted…

She's not sure why she feels the need to do it, but she opens the box of potions on her vanity.

It's there, unmistakable and obvious, the quill of the feather piercing through on of her vials.

“This is impossible,” she murmurs.

“What is that, Regina? What are you going to do with those?”

She cries and laughs all at once. Shaky, loud, wet sobs flowing free from her mouth, her body convulses and she's sure it's ugly and horrible, her half-naked body bent over the vanity, clutching the feather-pierced vial as if it were the most precious thing on earth.

“Regina?” he asks softly.

“Did you do this?” she finally manages to ask, holding up the tube for him to look at.

“No…” he says slowly. “What on earth is that?”

“When we were living here, Robin and I... I made a sleeping curse. I was going to use it on myself, but, well, I was convinced not to. Over that year I made a few sleeping curses... in moments of weakness and anger it was a source of comfort to imagine sleeping. But I never used them. I told Robin the only way to break the curse was with true love….”

She looks at the liquid, no longer enchanted, dull and lifeless. “This feather... changed it. It's no longer magical, do you see?”

“There was a thing with feathers wasn't there?” he asks, “Regina told me, Roland had—”

“Yes, yes, there was a thing with feathers.” She looks up at him and smiles. “You're not him. But I think he's watching us. I think he enchanted that mirror. And…” she swallows thickly. “I think he wants you to... I think he wants you to know his son.”

She hates saying it out loud. She's not a hopeful person. She still doesn't believe in fairy tale endings. But this… she's practically been hit over the head with signs that this is true. And she is so tired of denying herself the hope for resolution on Robin’s life.

“Well, I know that I want to meet him,” Robin admits. “And given how adamantly against it I was before that probably shocks you, because it shocks the hell out of me. But I've seen all these memories, and it’s Marian’s child, and… it turns out that means something to me. Maybe you could disguise me, make me look like his brother of Robin’s, or a long lost cousin, or—”

“I promise we’ll work something out.” She murmurs, placing a hand on his heart. “I promise, Robin.”

OoOoOoO

She approaches the men first. Catches John while he is out hunting. The man is absolutely thrilled to see her, and she laughs a bit at how things have changed. He once hated her, was terrified of her (though he'd never admit it), but now he wraps his arms around her and lifts her into the air as if she were his very best friend.

“Roland asks about you almost every day. How long can you stay?” he asks, “Is there a way we can make this a regular thing, because the boy... I try, Regina, but…”

“I live here now,” she cuts him off. “I'd like to see him as much as you'll let me.”

And then she launches into an explanation of the latest Storybrooke drama. Her split, the lightness and love inside of her... and... New Robin.

“The boy will be torn apart to see a man who looks like his papa but isn't him,” John states matter-of-factory. “I know I can't stop you from doing what you want, but I urge you—”

“I won’t let them meet without your approval, John,” she says, and god, how she hates to give up control, but this is for the boy, she can do this for Roland. “I need your help with this. There are parts of this Robin that seem… familiar. And... things have happened that I can’t explain. I think he might be connected to Our Robin. Will you meet him? I want your input in this.”

OoOoOoO

John meets with Robin first. And then Tuck. Then Will. Then almost everyone, it seems. Roland is still out on a trip with Much, and thank god for that, because it would have been impossible to keep something like this — where the entire camp is acting so uncharacteristically somber — from the curious, sneaky boy.

Regina gives them their privacy. Resists the urge to eavesdrop. She finds she's terribly nervous to hear their reaction, unspeakably worried about what this hardened version of Robin says and does around men who have martyred the other version of him. It can't be easy; it's what Regina did to him and it was awful for him.

The sun is setting in the sky when John meets her back at the spot of the forest where he left her hours ago. He smiles at her warmly. “We've talked. He's still talking to Will.”

She raises an eyebrow at him, because this isn’t exactly new information. “So I’ve gathered.”

John rushes into an explanation of his findings. “There are things we can't explain. Little things, his reaction to our story, the way he talks... it's very much like a young version of the Robin we knew. Very much so, actually.”

She smiles thinly. “I didn't know him then, but... but I can see that.”

“But there are also differences, Regina. And the differences are not insignificant.”

She nods. She knows this, expected it.

“We cannot have him pretending to be the boy's father. It's not fair to Robin's memory, or to Roland.”

“I would never do that,” Regina insists. “I love him, you know I wouldn't—”

John raises his hands in the air defensively. “I know, Regina, I know. It just had to be said. I need to know what your plan is, for how to introduce him to Roland. We all need to help make this work.”

OoOoOoO

She meets him first, on a day just reserved for them. They won't explain to Roland that the queen has split, it's far too complicated. She's still Regina, and he's still her little knight, so the details are unimportant.

John takes him to a clearing, a beautiful spot she imagines Robin taking him to. He looks well, from where she's staring, just behind a tree. Looks happy, well fed... Robin would be proud.

“You have a visitor, Roland.” John says quietly. “Someone has come to see you, she's made quite the journey.

His eyes go wide. “Regina?” he asks before she's even visible. It warms her heart, knowing he's still thinking about her, hoping for her.

“Hello, Roland,” Regina says softly as she makes her way into the clearing. But he's running into her arms and squeaking over her quiet voice and words aren't really necessary.

She wraps her arms around him tightly, let's him fold himself around her. He's grown.. And she’s missed him, god, she has tried to put it out of her mind but since Robin left this earth she's been longing to hold Roland, take him in her arms so they could deal with their grief together. He's like the last piece of a puzzle that she has just found. She feels settled. Complete.

“I didn't get to say goodbye,” Roland sobs into her shoulder. “Uncle John said you'd come to see me soon but then you never came and I w-w-wanted to go baacckk and see you but Uncle John said he didn't know how, and I missed you, Regina, you didn't even say goodbye, that's not right…”

“I'm here now, Roland.” She shh-s him gently, a soothing hand on his head. “And you know what? I'm going to stay here. We can see each other all the time.”

“We can?” He pulls back off her shoulder to look in her eyes. He's quite the sight, snotty and tear soaked, face puffy and red. He mutters under his breath some happy exclamation. Something like I knew it, but she pays it no mind.

“Yes, baby,” Regina assures, wiping his tears away with her thumb. “If that's what you want, I can—”

“I don't want you to leave again!” he says quickly, fighting through tears. “I want you to stay! John doesn't know how to make hot cocoa and he said there are no marshmallows here, and there's no ice cream either, and there's no one to read me a bedtime story with the voices that you taught Papa...”

He babbles on a list of complaints that make Regina cringe. His time in Storybrooke had not been too long for an adult, but for a child, it made an impression. And now he's been ripped away from the comforts of modern life, thrown back into a life he knew — a life that is not easy. God, she should have strangled the necks of everyone who let him go without even consulting her.

“I know how to make ice cream, and hot chocolate,” she says, because she can't fix how he misses his father, can't heal his broken heart, but this she can do.

“That would be good,” he sniffles into her arm. Then he moves out of her arms quickly, as if he just remembered something., “Where’s Henry?”

“He's back in Storybrooke with Emma,” Regina soothes, opening her arms to let him fall back against her, “but this time I know where he is. And we may be able to visit him, actually, or at least look at him, through a mirror. Would you like that?”

He nods into her neck. He's quietly sniffling now, no longer overtaken by those heart wrenching, convulsing sobs, thank god.

“I know Papa is with the stars and he's watching over me and you and my sister all the time. But how can he watch over all of us if we are in different places?

Her knees ache, and this will be a long talk, so she walks him over to a fallen log and takes a seat, urging him to sit next to her.

“Your papa is special, he always was. That's how he took such good care of us all. But now, Papa has access to the most powerful magic in the world. So he can watch us all at once, and I bet he's watching us now, and smiling.”

“He's happy that we're together again,” Roland croaks. And she thinks that yes, yes he is.

“I think you're right.”

She just holds him there on her lap for a while, lets him process, let's those tears and sniffles leave his body. He grabs a stick at some point and starts drawing circles in the dirt below them. It's a coping mechanism, she knows, and watching it seems to settle her as much as drawing it settles him.

“Sometimes I talk to Papa,” Roland says after a few minutes. “And sometimes he talks to me.”

“Me too,” Regina admits. “He can't speak to you the way he used to, but I bet he tries to speak to you, through the wind, the trees..”

Roland nods. “When the stars come out, I can show you the one I think is papa’s, if you like?”

And that sounds quite nice to Regina.

She doesn't tell him about his father's doppelgänger right away. They spend time together, just a few days. And each night she comes back to an understanding, though worried, Robin.

She can feel the insecurity seeping off of him, but he needn't worry. She is never more sure that they belong together than when she comes home to him, and he takes her in his arms and lets her vent, or cry, or scream, or hell, say nothing at all.

She has no idea how to broach the subject with Roland, but then, three days later, Roland is asking to stay in the castle with her, and she has to tell him.

“If the men say it is okay, I would love to have you,” she gives.

“Maybe they can stay too! John misses beds,” he whispers, “but that's a secret, no one's supposed to know.”

She thinks of John, staying over a few nights he spent at Granny's when he had the “flu”, and how those days turned into a week and a half. She laughs. “I won't tell anyone, Roland. But there's something important I have to discuss with you.”

“Is this about your new friend?” Roland asks innocently.

Her blood runs cold, numbing her from the waist down. She can't move, can hardly breathe. Then she remembers the Merry Men are terrible at telling secrets. “Did your uncles tell you that I have a new friend?”

“No…” Roland says carefully. “Papa did!”

He's an innocent child and she hates herself for what she's thinking — that he's lying to trick her, that he's making things up. After everything she's experienced, she still has such trouble believing Robin is there.

She can't speak, just looks at him, hopefully the look she's giving isn't as horrified and grief stricken as she feels.

Roland fills the silence. “I talk to Papa at night when his star is out, and he answers me when I sleep. And he told me there's a new friend of yours that might seem scary, but he's a part of papa, and that I shouldn't be scared. But why is he scary, Regina?”

She can barely hear his question over the sound of her heart knocking loud in her chest. She can't dismiss these things as fantasies or coincidences. He is really here, all around them, and he's pushing for this, for this family reunion, and it kills her — kills her, because he should be here. He should be the one holding his son, telling him it's going to be okay. He should be here, helping her raise him. He's still here, just out of reach, and it cuts at her deeply.

“Why are you crying, Regina?”

She hadn't even noticed the tears falling down her face until Roland asks. He turns to her, and wipes away her tears, and it's so tender she just about sobs.

“I'm crying because…” she struggles to put it in words. “Because I miss your papa, Roland, and I am happy that he... wants you to meet my friend.”

“Didn't papa tell you that he wanted that?” Roland asks.

Yes, yes he had. “He did, in a way, I suppose.”

“Did you have trouble hearing him? He says it's hard for you to hear him sometimes.” Roland states matter-of-factly, as if he were telling her something John had said at lunch.

“I... yes. I think... I can't hear your papa like you can.”

“It's easier for me since you got here,” Roland says, “it used to be harder for me to hear him, too.”

“Is he… Roland, do you think he's happy?” She can't help it, it's a horrible question to ask of a child, but she's weak, and she's been so tortured by that question for so long.

“Yes, he likes it in the stars, Regina! He gets to see my momma, and his momma, and he even meets new friends up there. He said he misses hugging me and you and my baby sister, but he doesn't miss seeing us because he is always watching. And he loves us.”

“He does,” she says, just above a whisper.

“And he says you don't have to feel bad about having a new friend,” Roland says, “but I don't know why a friend would make you feel bad, do you?”

His words paralyze her. For a few seconds she cannot move, cannot breathe, and she swears her heart stops beating. Everything goes silent and still as she processes his words.

He knows. He knows how guilty she feels, he knows how conflicted she is everyday, how she tries not to be but…

Robin knows and he is telling her it's okay, and it just about kills her.

“You're right Roland. I shouldn't feel bad about my new friend. And he wants to meet you. But you have to know, his name is Robin, just like Papa. And he... he looks just like him, Roland. That's what I think might be scary. He looks like papa, but he's not him.”

Roland looks perplexed. “Why would that be scary?”

He doesn’t get it, probably won’t, until he sees it for himself. And just when she starts thinking this was a terrible decision, and starts doubting everything. She looks down into her lap, ready to tell Roland not to worry, that this is all a mistake. But then she sees it; a feather.

She takes it for what it she first thinks it should mean — it’s Robin’s way of telling her to forge ahead, to not back out and keep Roland from meeting this new, odd, wish-created version of his father.

She takes a deep breath in and looks at the boy in front of her. He’s wide eyed and innocent, and so innocent. She hopes she doesn’t crush his heart. “It’s…hard to explain. There are other things that may remind you of your papa… I think papa gave him a present. A piece of... his heart maybe? But I think he wants you to know him.”

“He told me he does!” Roland insists. “I won’t be scared of your new friend, Regina. I promise.”

She imagined this conversation a thousand different ways but never considered that Roland would be the one to comfort her, to explain to her the futility of guilt and the concept of immortality, but she shouldn't be surprised. It's just another gift that Robin has given her. How she will ever repay him, she will never know.

OoOoOoO

Robin meets them at the castle gates. He's nervous, she can see it in the way he plays with the collar of his shirt, the way he paces and stares at the ground. When he looks up and sees her face, he nods, stands far too straight, and waits for them to close the distance between them.

Roland seems to walk slower as he approaches, until he doesn't walk at all. He's transfixed, just staring at Robin with wide eyes.

This seems to scare Robin, too, and they both have that deer-in-headlights gaze that Regina fears will result in both of them running in the opposite direction from one another.

“It's okay, Roland,” she whispers into his ear, “This is Robin.”

“He looks exactly like Papa,” the boy startles. “Are you sure he's not—”

“Yes baby, he's not him. He's my friend, just like Papa said. And Papa said not to be scared of him, remember?”

Roland swallows loudly as his eyes focus on Robin. “How is he different?” he whispers.

Regina goes for the easiest difference to explain. “Well, for starters, your papa had lighter hair. Look how dark Robin’s hair is. See? They are different.”

This difference seems to do wonders for Roland, whose lips curve upwards, almost to the point where Regina could call it a smile. Almost.

“Okay,” he says, grabbing her hand. “I'm ready.”

They walk up to Robin slowly, together. When they reach them, Robin squats down on the earth so he can be eye-to-eye with him.

“Hello, Roland. Your papa has told me so much about you.”

It's a surprise to both of them when Roland launches himself into Robin’s arms.

“I know you're not my papa,” Roland whispers, “but you give hugs like he did.”

Robin chuckles through tears, and Regina is more than a little blurry eyed, but manages a little sad laugh herself.

It's a start of something. Maybe not the ending she had imagined for Roland and herself, but so much better than nothing at all.

OoOoOoO

Roland calls him Robin.

And he calls him a lot. The two have become inseparable over the last few weeks.

Roland is a happy child, splitting his time between the Merry Men and her castle. But the men agree he belongs with Regina, and the transition is slowly being made so he lives with her and visits them instead of the other way around. She's offered them room in her castle, but most of the men (save for John) prefer the outdoors to the claustrophobic confines of indoors. So Roland and John become frequent guests, and the rest of the men stay at camp not too far from the castle walls.

Roland is surprisingly well-adjusted. He needs more socialization, however, so Regina's getting him into town now and again, trying to get him involved in the villagers and their activities. She disguises herself as a villager, and takes him where the children play, by the edge of the forest. He enjoys it, she thinks.

Robin actually pouts when she insists on taking him into town. The man who assured her that he despised children now actively seeks the companionship of a five year old. He even comes into town just to sit and watch the boy play.

And that's not all that's changed about Robin. He's much more... compassionate. He's not that Robin, never will be, but he's not as harsh with his words anymore. He's softer with her, maybe more confident in them, but whatever has happened, they seem to fight less and he seems to care about others more. Thank god.

Robin’s the one who comments that the villagers look like they are in dire shape, which prompts Regina to uncover that when most of her kingdom hopped into a different realm, leaving this village ungoverned, King Richard annexed it to his Kingdom. And so it's not surprising that the villagers are starved. Richard is just that kind of leader.

“We have to help them.” Robin says quietly to her. And they help, when they can. She's given up many of her jewels, but it's not quite enough. She can't provide for an entire kingdom like this.

“How?” Regina asks. “We don't have an army to overthrow Richard. My magic... I can do a lot, but if I use it to hurt others…. even for the sake of good, it takes a moral toll. And I don't want to backslide—”

“We'll find a way without you doing that,” Robin assures, with a wink. “It's what he would have wanted, isn't it? And everything else he's wanted for me…” he stares at Roland playing tag with the children, and then at her, with far too much affection for a brisk afternoon, “everything else has brought me infinite happiness. So why not do this too?”

“He'd want us to have an adventure,” Regina says with a smile. “Something daring, and fun. But also something that would make Roland proud. No killing.”

“Oh, I agree. But tell me again, how exactly did your Robin feel about justifiable theft?”

She flashes him that coy smile, and thinks of what a fitting tribute it would be to steal from the rich and give to the poor. How fitting it would be for a once-monarch to join the resistance, for an evil queen that handled all her disputes in bloodshed to start a revolution without a single casualty.

She glances at a happy, smiling Roland and knows it would make him proud. And as if proving her point, a feather falls from the sky, drifts right into her lap.

Mind made up, then.

“Let's do it.”


	5. Rebirth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Based on the prompt: Robin watching over Dark!OQ from heaven.

**A/N: Someone gave me this prompt based on this verse: Robin watching over Regina in heaven.   Yes, I'll continue it later.**   
  


It’s a strange thing, being dead.

 

He had just visited the Underworld, so Robin thought he would know what to expect, should there be anything at all after the crystal’s light overtook his eyes.  

 

But there was no underworld.  Instead, he was able to see Regina for a final time in this new, weightless, wispy form, god, how he reached for her, even though he knew, at that second, he could not touch her.

 

And then it was like a drain opened and pulled him down inside it.  He was whisked away into the wind, pulled out of that blasted room with Regina and into something that is colorless and odorless.  He focused on her, on her beautiful face, and thought of his son and daughter, my god, let those be the last thoughts he has, while he still exists.

 

He waits to become nothing while he’s moving in this swirling abyss.  Waits to reach the end of this destination and, just like Hades said, for all thoughts to cease, to be….part of the earth, part of the ozone, part of anything.  

 

But that end never comes.

 

Instead his vision returns to him slowly.  He’s in a large, sprawling field, and there’s a woman in a blue dress making her way to him.  

 

Robin knows it's her before he can see her face.  

 

“Hello, Mum.”  And just that words make her appear before him.

 

She’s just as beautiful as Robin remembered her, rosy cheeks and pink lips, that dark hair he used to twist between his fingers as a toddler.  All fresh faced and innocent, and  _alive._

 

“I’ve missed you,” she whispers, “I’ve missed you very much.”

 

“I missed you too, so much.” He’s dreamt of this day for a large part of his childhood and most of his adult life. For that moment all he wants is to hold her, to thank the gods above (or are they no longer above?  Are they just...beside him?  Or even below?) that she has been happy and safe for all these years.

 

“You made me proud, Robin.  So much, your whole life I have been proud.” She sounds sincere and warm and feels like home.

 

“I doubt that very much,” Robin breathes into her neck, thinking of those dark years when he was nothing but a useless scoundrel.

 

“You went through adversity and struggled and overcame it.  I’m proud of everything you did and went through, even the bad things, because they made you who you are.  And now… it brought you here.”

 

“Where am I?” he asks, because this is not the underworld.  Could he be… in the clouds?  In the other place?  

 

“You’re a hero,” she murmurs.  “There’s very little that is not done for those who sacrifice their lives for others.  You will want for nothing.”

 

“What I want is to be back with my son, my daughter, and my—”  It’s hard to explain what Regina is to him.  She should have been his wife.  She should have been so much more to him.

 

“And your soulmate?”

 

“Yes,” he says, because that's it, that almost describes it, “I need to know she’s okay, that they all are, and I need to protect them.  If I should want for nothing I should get to go back, should I not?”

 

Mother sighs, shaking her head.  “The dead cannot come back.  At least… It’s not something that’s ever been granted, that I have known.”

 

“My family needs me,” he mutters, “I’ll give up everything for a few more hours, I’ll—”

 

“No,” mother says, “you won’t.  Because you will have all of eternity with them.  I promise you that.  Everyone you care about, they get to go right here, to live with you.  That’s what your sacrifice means.  An eternity of happiness for your family and theirs.  It’s a great gift, Robin.  Don’t take that from them.”

 

“Are you here...are you here because of me?” He asks slowly.  His mother had sacrificed, in a way, for him, so she might deserve to be here on her own right.

 

“Yes, I live this way because of  _your_ sacrifice.  It was apparent you’d die for either Regina or Roland for some time.  They moved me here when your fate was assured.  The place I moved from was… nice.  But here, here is is paradise.  I’d gladly move back to the heavens with Zeus and the greek gods if it’d make you happy, but I beg you not to take this from Roland, or Regina.”

 

He’s so frustrated, in this moment, it’s maddening.  “I just wish I could protect them.  Watch them.  Make sure they are okay.”

 

“Oh,  _that_ you can do,” mum assures.  “You can even attempt to talk to them, though they do not always hear you.  But I can tell you, whatever happens, whatever they endure, they have eternity here with you.  It can be hard to watch our loved ones.  It takes an emotional toll.  Not everyone chooses to do it.”

 

He stares at her, dead in the eyes.  She knows, she has to know, there’s no way he will turn down seeing his family.

 

His mum nods her head.  “Alright then, I’ll show you how to do it.”

 

.::.

 

He can visit Marian whenever she wants.  She does not live here, in the hero’s afterlife.  But she is in the heavens, where she belongs.  And she’s happy, so happy.  They love each other very much, he and Marian.  But they aren’t like the other reunited couples in heaven, because Robin’s heart belongs to another and it turns out Marian’s does as well.  Her soulmate, as it were,  is none other than Alan-a-Dale.  She always felt something, she admits to him, but never  _really_ knew.  She loved Robin, deeply and truly.  There was just this… connection she never explored.  So she is here, in the afterlife, awaiting Robin’s friend to begin eternity together.  

 

But for now, she and Robin have struck up a friendship that binds them tightly.  

 

Marian is free of the constraints of earthly logic and emotion, and she no longer lets Regina’s past taint her ability to see the woman for what she is.  She embraces Regina’s unique, resilient soul.

 

“I thought she would be taking care of Roland for us,” Marian admits to him.  “She’s a good mother.  And she’d absolutely protect him. That’s crystal clear from here.  She should be doing that.  I… I can’t talk to anyone.  But you… you can talk to her.  Tell her to take care of our boy.”

 

He tries.  He sends her feathers any time she thinks of Roland, but she’s either ignored them or missed them entirely.  He speaks to her in her sleep, when she dreams.  But all it does is make her cry when she wakes, and he figures the signal is getting twisted in her brain, that soothing words are turned into nightmares.   When she weeps for him he calls out to her, begs her not to mourn him.  But she’s too preoccupied by her own self loathing to hear him… she just needs to believe, to listen.

 

Regina is shutting him out without meaning to.  Or perhaps she means to, and she’s just afraid of letting him in.  In any case it’s hell watching her hurt like this when she won’t listen to a damn word he is trying to say.

 

And then the worst happens: she splits herself in two.  He tries everything he can, screams at her, whispers through the breeze, sends feathers down from the heavens, anything to let her know she is special and loved  _just the way she is._  It’s so clear from up here that darkness isn’t bad, that without darkness, you wouldn’t know the light.  But it’s complicated down there on Earth, and poor Regina is mourning him and blaming herself, and she has no one reminding her that every part of her is to be loved.  

 

He doesn’t experience anger for those who have wronged him up here, up in heaven. It’s all in the past, and all those experiences brought him to this place.  But he does have anger towards Regina’s family for letting her do this— letting her mutilate herselfi.  He wants to rip out the hearts of both Snow and Emma, split them in half and crush one of their souls.

 

His beautiful soulmate desecrated herself and he can’t stop her.  She blames herself for his death, and she’s so very wrong and he doesn’t know what to do.

 

Marian and mother tell him to stop, to take a step back.  Watching loved ones grieve can be a very difficult process.  

 

“You should talk to Daniel,” Marian says, nearly above a whisper.  “What  _he_ went through when he died, and had to watch Regina... “

 

Robin cringes.  

 

“He didn't die a hero’s death, so he couldn't… the type of power you have can't go to all of us.  it would be chaos on earth if everyone got to communicate with their loved ones the way you do.  So it's only reserved for those who give their lives in sacrifice for another's.  You do have options he did not.  Still, he can help you, I think.”

 

He thinks of watching Regina descend into darkness, on a path of revenge for his life that had her squashing out the lift and goodness in her and no, that sounds like misery.

 

So he refuses to meet him.  His mother and Marian leave him in his grief, as he tries desperately to reach Regina, to tell her to accept herself, to love herself, to undo this mess.

 

He expects someone to fetch Daniel, or even Regina’s father.

 

But it is not Daniel who approaches him next, or Regina's father, or mother, or anyone he would recognize.  Instead, an older man who seems both familiar and like a complete stranger places a comforting hand on his shoulder

 

“Do I know you?” he asks the man.  

 

“Yes and no,” the old man answers.  “I look after things here.  I have no name, but I am always here when you need me.”

 

“You want me to talk to Regina's past lover, about how he coped?” Robin pauses, shakes his head and steels himself.  “I don't want to do that.  I can't believe she will suffer the same misery she did the first time.  I can't.”

 

“I'm not here for any of that,” the man say gently.  “I'm here to offer you a choice.  It's… a bit unusual though not exactly unprecedented...you see, you know that woman you are watching isn't just your true love, but your soulmate.

 

He does, he knows it.  So he nods.  

 

“She split herself — her whole self — in two.  Light from dark.  Now she has two souls, one black and one white.”

 

“So I have two soulmates now,” he chuckles darkly.

 

“Yes,” the man gives.  “But soulmates are missing pieces to a puzzle.  She's just split herself, split that puzzle piece… Robin, what I am saying is the three of you don't fit together the way the two of you do.”

 

“I won't lose her.  You said in this place, I'll want for nothing, please don't take her away from me!”

 

“No no,” the man says, “quite right, we won't take her away.  They will still be your soulmate.  But neither version will be the Regina you were perfectly matched with.  It will always, for eternity, be just a bit different.”

 

“Fuck Snow,” he mutters.  “Fuck Emma, fuck Zelena, fuck Hades…” and then he brings himself to say who he really blames. “Fuck me; this is all because of me.”

 

“No,” the man says in his cool, even tone, “it is not your fault.  Nor is it her family’s fault.  Regina’s been hammered with self-hatred for her whole life.  It’s not surprising that monster inside her reared its ugly head.  Regina’s family is imperfect, and human, and they do not know how to handle such a situation.”

 

“Well  _I_ know how to do it.  You fucking beg her not to do it!  You tell her you love her just the way she is and that her evil doesn't weigh her down it's what makes her—” she sights, finds a hand over his eyes.  “I never would have stopped begging her until she tossed that potion away.”

 

“That is true, you would not have,” the man says in that same emotionless tone.  “But had you been alive, circumstances would be easier, she would be much easier to convince to stay whole.”

 

Robin nods and swallows thickly.  “What can I do now?”

 

“You can choose to split yourself as she has.” And in this area, the man speaks carefully.  “You would split, light and dark.  Your light side would be the soulmate of Regina's lightness, and your dark side…”

 

“The soulmate of the Evil Queen,” he breathes.  He thinks about it, about his past, about his darkest self...and well, it doesn't seem right to unleash that into this place.

 

“Wouldn't a soul that dark be…”

 

“That part of you could not stay here,” he man explains.  “The act of heroism, of sacrifice and love, that would all be you.”

 

“So part of my would go to the underworld?” he asks.

 

The man shakes his head.  “Technically that soul has never truly lived, and therefore would not fit in the Underworld.  I know almost everything, but I am not sure where the dark soul will go.  But I do know it will be tied to the Queen’s soul.  And I can make it so that if the queen merges back, so will you.”

 

“There’s a chance that a part of me might...make it back to Earth?” he asks.

 

Possibly.” The man sighs.  “There would need to be an event, something to push him down to to earth.  But as he never lived, bringing him back would not be impossible.”

 

There’s no doubt in his mind what he wants.

 

“Do it,” he pleads, “separate the light from the dark, same as Regina has done.”

 

“Part of you may be lost forever,” the man warns.  “You may never see that part of yourself ever again.”

 

“But she will,” he says, thinking of the Evil Queen.

 

The man nods.  “Yes, if you split she will see you again, in one realm or another.”

 

“Then it’s worth it.”

 

“You won’t be entirely yourself,” he presses, “this will change things.  It may be… quite unsettling.”

 

“Then I’ll experience the same discomfort Regina feels.  I don’t care, I just want her back.”

 

The man smiles at him knowingly, almost proudly.  He shakes his head.  “So be it.”

 

It feels like someone attached a vacuum his entire being and is slowly drawing out something trapped just underneath his surface.

 

He feels it, when the darkness starts to separate.  There's this unmistakable sensation of feeling weightless, then a soft tingle that reminds him of a more wholesome time, in his youth.

 

When the process is complete, he only has a second to look at his split soul before it is taken.  

 

The soul is angry, bitter and… ready for a fight.  He thinks of his own darkness, the things this soul now has to live though without  any if the  _goodness_ inside him, any of the ways to cope.  Robin reaches out to his other self, to offer something, understanding, appreciation, but then it is sucked away from him as quickly as he appeared.

 

“It is done,” the man says with a sad smile.  “Now we wait.  And hope.”

 

“Can you make it so they can hear me?” Robin asks. “My son, he seems to hear me, but Regina and the Queen…”

 

“They can hear you.  But they may choose not to listen.  Young people are more open minded to these matters.  Regina, both sides of her, won't even let herself believe you can reach her.  She will take some work.”

 

Robin doesn't stop trying.  He speaks to her and drops feathers around her at times when she needs him—both her and the Queen.

 

He hates to see her at war with herself.  He feels helpless.

 

They react differently, these versions of her.

 

Regina mourns him privately.  She sobs over his clothes, she apologizes to thin air for taking his life and soul, and it is heart wrenching.

 

He feels everything she does, deeply.  He feels as if he’s one with her, but he can’t pull her out of her misery, can’t breathe hope into her where she has none.  He tries.  There are ways to channel energy and emotion into loved ones.  He’s learned how to channel his warmth into her body when she’s cold and lonely.  She feels it, he knows she does.  He even can blow a breeze down from her scalp to her ear, an echo of how he used to touch her, when his fingers slid through her beautiful hair.

 

But more than that.  He can try to channel soothing vibes into her, try to give her a sense of comfort and peace.

 

And though these emotions reach her, she rejects them, clinging tightly to her own misery instead of accepting the closure he is trying to give her.

 

Her son insists that Robin is in a place for heroes.  Henry, thank god for Henry. Regina claims she believes.  She tells Snow White she chooses to believe that he’s moved on, in a way that’s as convincing as he’s come to expect from her.

 

He drops a feather,just then, ever more hopeful that she will see it and realize he is with her, always.

 

But she moves away before it falls.  He can feel her emotions, she suddenly grows itchy and anxious.  It’s always that way.  The second he gets close to her she pulls away, like she’s afraid of him.

 

She pretends to move on, but she’s still suffering in private.  It’s almost imperceptible, she’s so good at hiding the truth.  But if he were there, he would notice the way her smile never quite meets her eyes, how she sighs just a bit too slowly, how she glances down more than she ever did before.  Those subtle bags under her eyes that are carefully covered with makeup. It’s noticeable, barely, but no one sees it in Storybrooke.  

 

He’s so connected to her now, of course, that he can read her struggles.  She doesn’t  _truly_ believe that he is safe, doesn’t even believe that his souls exists in any realm.  He can feel the way she covers up that fear, hides it but does not release it.  It remains, always under the surface.  

 

It’s so frustrating.  Frustrating watching her she’ll grow touched each day, building up walls from even her own son, trying to be so strong, then turning into a sobbing mess at night.

 

Regina doesn’t get to see either of his children, and  _that_ kills him.  Because he can see into her heart, and he knows she loves that child, knows she wants to care for her, knows how she worries for her.  But Regina feels guilt, she feels unworthy.

 

He can hear her thoughts.  She couldn’t protect a grown man, couldn’t protect Robin, why does she think she’s the best to protect his daughter?

 

It’s utter nonsense is what it is.

 

He meant what he said, everyone deserves a second chance.  But he doesn’t trust Zelena with his child, and why should he?  All the anger is gone, all the mortal negative feelings of shame and guilt and thirst for revenge… that’s faded away.  But even without that anger, he has an unease about his child with Zelena.  She’s not stable.  She doesn’t understand how to care for an infant the way a mother should.  Because she’s  _not_ a mother.  Not really.

 

He comes to that conclusion not out of hostility or hatred or any grudge.  He can see things more clearly from here.  And it’s just obvious.  Zelena is not a mother.  She may be, in time, but there’s no warmth there, none of the selfless love he can feel from the other mothers of this world.

 

She’s not there, and his daughter deserves someone who is.  And that person is  _Regina_.  But she can’t see how much she’s needed, not under her guilt and grief and self-loathing.

 

It is misery watching her.

 

“You don’t have to do this,” his mother says, soothing a hand over his back.  “her life down there is just a blip on the radar.  Whatever struggles she has, they will be forgotten.  There’s so much happiness waiting for her.”

 

“I can’t leave her,” Robin insists, “I can’t let her go through this alone.  Even if she doesn’t  _know_ I am with her, I want to be there just the same.”

 

“This place is supposed to make you happy,” his mother insists, “Let yourself be happy.  Time goes faster when you aren’t living it on Earth.  She will be here by your side before you know it.”

 

“I can’t, mum.” He says with a shrug.  “She has pushed away everyone. She has no one left.”

 

And his mother shakes her head, tells him she wishes she could take the pain away, but leaves him to spend his time with the woman he lost, back on Earth.

 

.::.

 

He also spends his time with the Queen, of course.

 

But the Queen is so hostile.  She’s angry and violent and lusting for blood.  He’s not as connected to her as he once was, though.  He can’t read her the way he did.

 

He’s no longer her soulmate, and it eats at him.

 

He tries, oh how he tries, but she’s so closed off he can only feel the stronger emotions that radiate off of her, and all he feels is  _rage._

 

But then there’s something underneath he can’t place.  He notices it when she stalks into Zelena's house and takes his child in her arms, with a tenderness that  _his_ Regina is capable of.

 

Tears fall down his cheek; they are beautiful together.

 

The Queen speaks of revenge, of finally embracing her evilness, of collaborating with his sister...but her words don’t sound sincere.

 

He can feel the hate pulsing out of her, dir fred towards Zelena.  She blames her too, same as Regina.  

 

Her first night with Zelena, she is the one to tend to the child when she cries for her late night meal.  She responds to her sobs immediately, gets up in a radiant nightgown, too pretty for sleep, warms a bottle with tempered magic, and rocks his baby, the child that bears his name.

 

“Shh, little one,” Regina says, cooing gently, “it’s okay.  I know, I know.  Your father was fussy when he was hungry too.”

 

Robin chuckles, thinking of all those jokes she made at his expense during their year in her castle.  How she teased him about his appetite, about how antsy he would get when he was in need of his next meal.  It was flirting, he knows that now and knew it then.  His hunger was never staved off during that year, for she was all he truly craved.

 

“Your father loved you,” The queen coos, “So very much.  He would have done anything for you.  He was a  _good_ man.” She whispers, slowly and sweetly, “your mother is not.  But you’ll learn that soon enough, won’t you?  I hate her, you know.”

 

And Robin cringes, because  _that’s_ not what he wanted, either.  They have to work together.  Zelena will never entirely be out of her life.  She needs supervision, that’s all.

 

“I won’t let her hurt you,” the Queen promises.  “You’ll always be safe with me.”

 

And then she breaks down, tears streaming down her cheeks.  “I know why you’re thinking.  What good were you when my father was getting killed?  Well, Robin would have been safe with me too if Regina had just let me..”

 

Her voice is quivering and thin, fades out  of dark room like a candle that’s just been blown out.  But Robin knows what she was going to finish saying.  She would have done something terrible to Zelena before this, something that would have prevented this whole disaster.

 

“We just have to wait, face one villain at a time.  After Snow White is gone, Zelena will be too.” She touches his daughter's nose fondly.  “I promise you, my little girl, we  _will_ get vengeance for your father.”

 

_Shit._

 

He doesn’t want this (may have once upon a time, but not now, not anymore).  Besides not wanting Zelena dead, he doesn’t want Regina to further darken her heart.

 

He tries to project his warmth, his love, his understanding, every soothing emotion he can throw at the Queen, but it doesn’t reach her, it fizzles out before it can touch her, as if there’s a protective barrier keeping him out.  There is such a barrier, it’s her anger, thirst for revenge, her sadness, her self loathing.... and also it’s the she’s no longer  _his._ She’s another version of his and  _that_ hurts more than he thought.

 

Gods,  he hopes splitting himself was the right thing to do.

 

.::.

 

The highlight of his time in the afterlife is with Roland.

 

At first, Roland cried for him.  And it was misery.  Until he figured out how to channel warmth into him when he was crying by the lake.

 

Roland responded immediately.

 

“Papa?” he had asked.  And Robin responded with a soft breeze that swept through his curls.  Roland had giggled then, looked up at the sky, and said “I know you’re here, Papa.  Even if I can’t see you.”

 

His belief makes everything easier.  He can talk to him in dreams with ease now.  He tells him stories of the afterlife, tells him how proud he is of him.

 

“I miss you,” Roland says one day.  “I know you like it up there in the stars, but I wish you were down here with me.  And I miss Regina.  I don’t like being away from my sister, either.  You said being a big brother is very important — and now there’s no one to teach my sister how to start a fire or how to play pranks on John!”. He sighs, tracing patterns in the dirt with a stick the way he always does, adding, “and I miss having other children to play with.  In Storybrooke there were  _lots_ of friends but I’m here all alone.”

 

Robin sends his warmth, and gentle breezes.  When Roland sleeps that night he tells him that he can’t come back, and that he’s so sorry about that.  Roland cries in his dream, but insists that he understands, that he can be brave about this.  

 

Still, everyone is so separated when they should all be together.  He hates the splintered shards of what should have been one cohesive family.

 

It takes a few days until Roland no longer cries for him.  He looks forward to his sleep, explaining that he sees his Papa there.  The men are good about it, they listen to his dreams and smile and laugh along with him.  

 

They tell Roland stories of Robin’s life — good ones, funny ones, ones that make him happy.

 

They are wonderful men, brilliant babysitters, but they are not  _parents._

 

And he needs them to know that, to know that this isn’t a good place for Roland.

 

He tries, tries to get through to some of them.

 

He has some success with John, he thinks.  He’s tried tapping into his dreams, placing ideas on what to do.  They all involve going back to Storybrooke.  In fact he’s certain of it when he man mumbles quietly over the breakfast table, “We should not have left.  I don’t think Robin wanted this.  Roland liked the other realm.  It was safer for him.

 

There’s some murmured agreement until Friar Tuck reminds them that they shouldn’t dwell on the mistakes of the past.  After all, they have no chance to correct this error on judgment, not anymore.  They don’t have any magic beans lying around to just jump into do they?

 

Robin can hope, at least, that one day they will find a way to get Roland back to the only woman he truly trusts to raise Roland.

 

.::.

 

He worries about the Queen.  Between people trying to kill her and her ridiculous evil schemes, he’s not sure whether she will live much longer.

 

She’s just forced Regina and Emma to some ridiculous wish realm, and he is terrified of what else she may wish for, for the terrible consequences it can have on both versions of Regina.  

 

He’s relieved when David gets the lamp right up into he uses it.  Stupid.

 

“I wish that the Evil Queen would get  _exactly_ what she deserves,” he says snidely.  The moment the words are out of his mouth, Robin just  _knows._ He feels it, feels himself being pulled like a rubber band, feels the faint snap when his other half must be released down to ear.

 

He hopes, anyway.

 

“Is that it?” he asks into space.

 

The man answers, suddenly appearing beside him.  “Yes.  That is it.  Your dark side is back on Earth… or an Earth of sorts, anyway.”

 

Robin nods, feeling happy for the first time.

 

“There are many fates in front of us.  He won’t meet Regina in every version of this story,” the man warns.

 

But Robin has hope.

 

.::.

 

She does meet him — not the Evil Queen, mind you.   _His_ soulmate.  

 

He thinks meeting him may help her merge again.  Maybe she will see a side of the Queen that is worthy… because that is what is underneath all that anger and rage, he thinks.  Rejection.

 

She feels rejected and tossed aside instead of loved.  And his other half is there to love her, but they have it all wrong.

 

And his Regina can’t connect to him and desperately wants to.  Every action she pours into this relationship hurts him, for it is doomed to go nowhere.

 

He watches as she realizes that, bit by bit, as his other side goes to  _Zelena_ of all people for help escaping her.  It’s tragic, so terribly painful.  Everyone is in such pain, even his other half is hurting and he wonders, just then, if he made the right choice.

 

Until his darkside meets the queen.

 

They are all bitterness and fire.  He can sense the attraction, the pull between them is magnetic.   

 

He’s almost glad when the split becomes permanent (nothing is  _permanent,_ he’s sure). And when Regina gives up her lightness to the dark side, he wonders what that means.

 

The man with the answers is there in a second to answer his unspoken question.

 

“To stay connected to her, you have to let a little bit of light into your split side,” the man says.  

 

And Robin just nods.  “Whatever it takes.  Will we will be split forever, now?”

 

“It seems that way.  But there are infinite choices and infinite possibilities ahead of us.  I cannot say for certain.”

 

It feels… good to let some of his darkness back in, to give away some of his purity.  He feels more like  _himself._ And it feels good to know that the version of himself, that dark soul, has a bit of lightness, a bit of softness to share with  _his_ soulmate.  

 

When Henry gives the Evil Queen a fresh start, he just knows she will end up with him.

 

 _His_ Regina, she knows too.  He senses it in his bones, feels everything she does, and it kills him.  She feels that twinge of pain, that awful jealousy she tries to tamp down, that sense of loneliness and yearning and pain.  

 

It hurts, punches him in the gut.  He’s not supposed to feel pain, not supposed to feel those negative emotions, but when he’s watching his soulmate suffer on earth, he can’t help but suffer with her. iHe won’t give it up, won’t let her feel it just on her own.  He’ll share the pain, even if no one knows he’s sharing it.  

 

.::.

 

The Queen and his darker self are easier to watch.  They love each other, and there’s something so appealing about watching these hardened, angry souls blush and fall all over one another.

 

He enjoys watching them (has to give them their privacy of course, as they join together in ways he itches to with  _his_ Regina) right up until the moment they very nearly run into his son.

 

And then he sees it, how much even this version of Regina misses and loves Roland.  It’s plain as day, it’s been there under the surface.

 

He feels for her, for there is no easy solution to the problem she faces.

 

And there’s guilt and fear and worry about her ability to ever  _see_ Roland while a man who looks like his father but is  _not_ his father is attached to her.

 

She worries about his memory being replaced, which is ridiculous because that person on Earth, that is part of him.  

 

And his other half, Locksley, well, he is adamantly opposed to having anything to do with Roland.  He is worried the Queen is just using him as a prop, placing him in the role of her former lover, and  _he_ hurts.

 

He watches them argue, watches them try to navigate around one another.

 

_"I don't need you to be him." The queen assures his other half._

 

_"Maybe not. But you'd be happier with him." Locksley responds._

 

But that’s not true, and Robin knows it even if they don’t.

 

He doesn’t belong to her anymore.  Locksley  _is_ her soulmate, and he’s a part of her, the same as she is a part of Regina.

 

She needn’t worry about that man playing a role of Roland’s father.

 

Because he  _is_ Roland’s father.

 

He just doesn’t remember.  And he’s scared, and worried about his ability to be a father.  But he possesses all those qualities to make a great dad, he just has to see it.

 

Robin doesn’t feel the jealousy or fear of being replaced he might have felt if he were down on Earth.  Things are clearer now.  Roland belongs with them.

 

He just needs to get them to see it.

 

Robin and Regina fight, they fight over what she feels for Roland, and what she feels for Locksley.  He thinks they will end up in opposite ends of the castle perhaps opposite ends of the realm, but instead, they surprise him.  

 

Locksley tells her he is wrong.  He offers his entire sense of self up to her, admits he cares for her deeply and doesn't want to be alone.  It’s touching, and nothing convinces him more than Roland belongs with them.

 

Robin just has to get them to see that.

Robin has never used magic before, but Regina has often said that love, true love, has magical elements.  

 So he tries to use some of that love, the best he can, to ignite her magic.

 

Regina watches his memories, memories she had bottled and saved, memories of his Roland, through a magic mirror.  And he knows that version of himself would understand how special Roland is, if he could only see those memories too.

 

So he waits for an opportunity.  For Locksley to be near the mirror when Regina is not.

 

It doesn't take long - later that night Locksley is awake with a sleeping Regina in his arms.  And Robin focus on that damn mirror as best he can, thinks of the love he has for his children, his mother, Regina, his hopes and dreams for all of them, and wills that mirror to bring up the memories of his son that Regina had just played for herself.

 

It works, it flows through him, a bolt of electricity hits the mirror with surprising strength, it turns on, and then Locksley is mesmerized, unable to look away from the story of Roland’s life.

 

It’s six hours before Regina wakes up.  Six hours of showing his other self the best parts of Roland, and gods is it ever working. The man  _feels_ something for his son that he can’t explain.  He cries when Roland cries, laugh when the boy laughs, and this is working, it is.

 

But the Queen is stubborn, she tries so hard to ignore him when he speaks to her, when he sends her gentle feathers from the Earth.  

 

So he has to make it  _so_ clear she can’t ignore it anymore.

 

This time he conjures a strong feather with a thick quill, one that pierces right through the vial that holds her sleeping curse.

 

He etches a feather carving into the mirror too (it takes so much  _effort,_ he knows he won’t be able to repeat something like this anytime soon, it zaps him of energy, has him struggling just to watch over them).  

 

As cynical as Regina is, as much as she refuses to believe in signs, he doesn’t think she can deny  _these_ signs.

 

When Regina wakes up, and Locksley tells her what happened, and what he feels for Roland.  The queen argues there is a malfunction that turned the mirror on, that it is  _impossible_ that Locksley is connected to  _her_ Robin… but in the end she can’t deny that he’s watching over her.

 

_"You're not him. But I think he's watching us. I think he enchanted that mirror. And… I think he wants you to—  I think he wants you to know his son."_

  
  


It feels so good to hear her say the words.  God after so many weeks of trying to reach her she finally hears him, and it’s such a damn relief.

 

He’s putting his family back together, but by bit.

 

.::.

 

Regina is hard to reach, but his son is easy.  Roland has never been taught that there is no such thing as ghosts, it’s never occurred to him that he should doubt the whispered voice in the breeze, that he should think the man who talks to him in his dreams is just his own imagination.  Roland believes effortlessly at this age.  John told him that his father is in the clouds and the stars, watching over him, and Roland does not so much as doubt it.

 

Everyday he’s able to hear Robin more, until they have actual conversations as he dreams.  It’s… well, he’s damn grateful for it.

 

“Papa?  Are you here?” Roland asks in his little dream world.  It’s this sunny meadow, surrounded by vibrant forest. Looks like something out of one of those  _cartoons_ Regina used to show him.  But it’s nice, he likes the bright colors and and the soft grass, this world that his son has created.

 

“I’m here, Roland,” Robin says, holding his arms out for him.  Roland always runs to him, always hugs him tightly.

 

“Papa, I missed you!  Guess what I did today?”

 

“Did you go fishing?” Robin asks, because he knows, he was there.  

 

“Yes!  Did you  _see_ the fish I caught!  Bigger than John’s  _and_ Tucks.”

 

“I saw!” Robin assures, but that brings a little pout to Roland’s face.

 

“I wish I could see you like I can see everyone else,” Roland whispers. “I wish you weren’t so far away.”

 

“I’m here,” Robin assures, “just in a different way.  You remember it was like that, before, yeah?  I had to go away a lot.”

 

Roland nods and runs his fingers through the tall soft grass.  “I miss Storybrooke.  When you had to go away there was always Belle, or Granny or… Regina.”

 

“I know you miss Regina,” Robin assures, because he knows that’s why this is about, the boy may miss Storybrooke but he misses the only mother he can remember even more.  “I wanted to talk to you about that.  Regina is going to visit you soon.”

 

“She is?” Roland squeals.  “When, papa?”

 

“I’m not sure, but soon.  You have to be patient with her.  It’s scary, seeing you again.  She’s worried you might not like her very much now that I am not around.

 

Roland tilts his head, narrows his eyes and asks, “Why, would she think I don’t like her?  Is that why she didn’t say goodbye?”

 

“Regina is hurting.  She misses me too, but she can’t talk to me in her dreams like you can.  She doesn’t believe enough to do it.  So she’s sad, my boy.  I want you to take care of her, to get her to believe she can be happy.”

 

“I will!” Roland says, “I’ll take care of her!”

 

“I know you will,” Robin assures. “But I need you to tell her something.  Regina has a friend.  She may think I am sad about her new friend, but I’m not.  I’m happy she had a new friend.”

 

Roland looks… perplexed.  “But papa, why would she think you are sad about a new friend?”

 

“Adults can be funny,” Robin answers, “I can’t really explain.”

 

“Okay….” Roland says, his face screwed in an annoyance that he’s far too old for, “will I get to meet her new friend too?”

 

“Yes, I think you will,” Robin says, “Regina might think you are scared of him, but he’s not scary.  I promise.  And if she worries, you tell her I said that, okay?  And make sure she knows I want you all to be together, to be a  _family._  Promise me that?”

 

Roland promises.  

 

Soon the Queen meets Roland.  THey spend time together, each day becoming more close, until Roland tells her everything he has heard that Regina cannot hear.  About how Robin is fine here, in the afterlife, that he wants them to be a family, and that he doesn’t blame her for falling in love with his other half.

 

The Queen is so soft these days, so open with her emotions.  She cries, and it breaks his heart and heals him at the same time.  She listens to Roland, thank god.

 

And slowly he watches them become a family.  He feels no jealousy over this, over seeing them be happy.  It’s what he’s wanted for them since he first got to the afterlife

 

Roland talks to him less and less.  Everyday he seeks out Locksley more and more.  He simply doesn’t need his old man like he used to, and  _that_ is a relief.

 

Roland deserves a living father who can hug and kiss him, who can teach him things and protect him from harm.  He’s glad he’s found that in some version of himself.

 

.::.

 

He concentrates himself on  _Regina_ then, the woman who is still mourning, who cannot see or hear him, who talks a big game of hope and faith, but privately has neither of that.  

 

He tries to get through to her, but she’s stubborn.  She won’t let him in.

 

He thinks of Henry, the heart of the truest believer, and realizes that there  _is_ someone who might be able to get through to his mother.  Or maybe even more than that.

 

He’s been thinking about it for some time, but hasn’t had the courage to ask, to make his appeal.

 

But Regina isn’t getting any better, and she’s so lonely that he cannot watch it anymore.

 

He has to try.

 

“My dark side was allowed on Earth because he never lived on Earth, is that so?” he asks into the dead space, waiting for the man to appear before him.

 

“That is true,” the man agrees.

 

“And when my soul was split, you told me I would not be the same person again,” he ventures.

 

“Also true,” the man agrees.

 

“The person I am now, the soul I have now, that soul has never lived on Earth either, is that right?”

 

There’s a pause, and then an amused response. “I suppose you haven’t,” the  man says.

 

“It’s what I want.” Robin says simply.  “I’m supposed to want for nothing, and this is what I want.”

 

“There’s a chance you won’t make it back to this place,” the man says, “You could undo all the good will that got you to this place once you return to Earth.”

 

“I don’t care,” Robin assures, “if it means I can stay, I’ll risk it, I’ll risk it all.”

 

“Very well then,” the man answers, as if he’s known this was his path all along.  “You can’t just go back.  There needs to be a triggering event, just like with Locksley.  Someone has to do something to get you back.  Do you understand?”

 

He thinks of Henry, the author, the heart of the truest believer.  He’s powerful and hopeful and most importantly, absolutely dedicated to his mother’s happiness.  Robin knows that Henry will make sure he gets back to her.

 

“Yes,” he smiles, looking at the man.  “I understand.”

 

“Very well then,” the man says, “you are free to return, if forces down below so request it.  But I must tell you, there is no guarantee—”

“Of course,” Robin says, smiling wider than he thought was possible, thinking of everything Henry had taught him in his short time together.  “But I believe the odds will work in my favor.”

 

He’ll see Regina again soon. Hold her, love her, tell her how wonderful she is.  He’ll reunite his family, odd as it is (two versions of himself, two versions of his soulmate, and their children).  They will get their second chance.  

 

And he won’t waste a second.


	6. The Visit

The thing about watching them from up here is, he can see things a little  _ too  _ clearly.

Robin is still in this afterlife, this place for heroes, but as he watches his loves, he watches the two lives belonging to each Regina — lives that should be that of one person — he can see all the missteps, all the  _ almosts.  _ All the ways he  _ almost  _ could be brought back to Earth, but no one ever makes the exact move that will trigger his return.

Not that he blames them. They couldn’t possibly know.

When Regina comes back to the Enchanted Forest, trying to save the realm from destruction, she couldn’t possibly know that if she met Roland at that point, he’d wish on a fallen star for Regina to have the life she deserved.  

But she had come to visit, fight, and then leaves… only asking once, briefly, if Roland is well cared for.  The Queen had told her she is more than happy to poof Roland, Robin and even Tuck back to the castle,so she could see them for herself.  But Regina is insistent she not bother them, and leaves, without any promises to return and visit.

He understands why, of course.  

Regina doesn’t say it, doesn’t tell her other half…. But Robin is so connected to her, his soulmate,  _ his _ Regina.  So he can not only read her thoughts, her fears, but he can  _ feel  _ them.

His Regina is scared to look Roland in the eye.  Robin had joked that Roland had already lost his mother, and it would be a pity for him to lose his father too.  Now that mocks her, she hates herself for being the reason Roland is now without either. And as he grows she worries that he will realize she was the key to his unhappiness, and she doesn’t think she’s strong enough to withstand the pain little Roland can so easily inflict.  

Regina thinks about Roland, often, worries, uses magic mirrors to peek in on when she thinks no one is watching (Robin is watching, always watching) but she is afraid to really meet him again, to visit her soulmate’s son, to see  _ her  _ Roland.

He is her Roland, after all.  He may live with the Queen, and with his other half, but Roland belongs with her every bit as he belongs to them. 

It’s particularly frustrating, watching Regina avoid him, because as he often contemplated with a grimace, Robin can see things a bit more clearly up here, and he knows that any event that triggers his return involves Roland and Regina interacting.  There is something about his boy that has always brought Regina to Robin, and the universe is telling him that it is powerful and pure,strong enough to summon him from this place back to Earth..

He’s not sure what it is about them.  Part of it is Roland is part of him, her soulmate’s son, and Regina a natural mother.  But they are both also powerful, in their own way. Roland, though he doesn’t know it, has powerful magic inside him.

During the times Robin visits Roland in his sleep (less frequently now, the boy has a wonderful father now, and doesn’t reach out for ghosts in his sleep as much), Robin is careful to never tell him about the magic.  That’s for Roland to discover. They talk, about family, about his life, about how good life is in the Enchanted Forest.

But often when Roland reaches out to him, it’s because he knows something is missing.

“How come Regina hasn’t taken me to visit Henry and my sister?” Roland asks him one night.  “I say I miss them, but Regina always talks about different things whenever I bring it up. They are back in Storybrooke, but we can’t go there.  But you’re supposed to always be with your family, Papa!”

It does kill him, hearing his son desperately clinging to the concept of family that Robin and his men had always taught him.  They were a family, by blood and by choice, and you don’t ever abandon family.

Roland knows that.  He had only ever held his sister once, before she had a name.  

_ “ _ Hello, little sister, _ ”  _ Roland had cooed into her ear.  “I’m your big brother, and I’m going to play with you and teach you how to climb trees and make tents, I’ll teach you my favorite places to hide, so Uncle John will always lose when we play hide-and-seek!”

Robin’s daughter had just looked at him, her lips pursed, blowing bubbles of spit that Roland found hilarious.  

Roland had not spent much time with her afterwards, especially after Robin’s death.  Zelena has saw it fit to separate them, after all, and hasn’t been too terribly invested in the need to keep contact.

The Queen, well, she hasn’t forgiven Zelena the same way Regina has.  She still resents her, still thinks she’s an unfit mother who doesn’t deserve forgiveness, so staying away, that seems like the best way to avoid a witch fight. 

But this situation with Roland and his sister, Robin can’t avoid trying to interfere.  He can’t reach The Queen like he once could, not since their soulmate connection had been broken.   He can’t reach Regina, because she is not yet ready to hear him.

But his connection to Roland is strong, so he can make things work through him.

So he tells him, instead.

“Tell Regina and Robin that I wish you would see your sister more.  Tell them you need to see the whole family, okay? Like that. The  _ whole  _ family.”

Because no one has quite come around to explaining to Roland that there are two of Regina, and as much as he knows that it’s a confusing conversation to have, he also knows his son can handle it, and Regina needs her whole family, any way.

.::.

“I spoke to Papa last night,” Roland says simply as he sits over a bowl of boiled oats and sugar.

“Did you?” Regina asks, trying not to sound nervous as she cooks a plate of scrambled eggs for her and Robin.  Her heart always skips a beat when Roland confessed to this. She knows he talks to him, knows he speaks to him in a way normal people cannot speak to the dead.  It’s a gift, one she is forever grateful for (without it sh wouldn’t have little Roland at all, she worried). But it scares her sometimes, makes her worry about what this could be for Roland, or for Robin's soul. 

“Yes.  I told him I missed Henry and my baby sister.  And he said he wants me to see them. But not just them.  My whole family. He said it just like that. My  _ whole  _ family.  Everyone who is important to him.”

The spatula once held in her hand clatters on the floor, as a gasp falls from her lips.

He wants Roland to know the other Regina.

She would deny this man nothing, not even as he is only a ghost.  And if this is his wish, she will damn well grant it — fuck whatever Regina has to say about it.

“Roland…” she says above a whisper.  “Do you know what he means by your whole family?”

“No, he said you would,” Roland says plain as day.  “Way did he mean?”

Regina bites her lip and grimaces.  “Why couldn’t you explain this to him your damn self,” she mutters into the ceiling, before glancing back down at a wide-eyed, curious toddler.

“Roland,” she breathes.  “I have something to tell you.”

Thank god for all the strange things this young boy has lived through, because explaining to him a second  Regina is not nearly as complicated as it could be. 

The only thing, it seems, that bothers him, is that she hasn’t yet visited.

“Is she mad at me?” Roland whispers, “Is that why  _ she  _ didn’t say goodbye?”

“No,” the Queen assures.  “She’s… sad. She misses your father.  She is mad at herself because she could not save him.”

“Oh,” Roland says,” staring into his oats.  “But Papa said it’s not her fault. And he likes it where he is, he isn’t hurting up there.”

He’s assured her a thousand times of this fact, but she still has trouble completely believing it.

“I know,” she responds, choking back the argument she cannot make to Roland, or anyone. Because he may like it where he is, but she knows he’d rather be here, where he can talk, and feel, and touch.  “But Regina doesn’t quite yet know that.”

If he’s watching them he must be watching the other Regina (his soulmate) too.  And she imagines that is quite he painful sight. Regina shows no signs of hurting, of course.  She’s attached herself to her son, and to the care of the town, but well the queen knows her intimately.

She knows that the mayor is still in deep pain.

“So we should tell her,” Roland says simply, as if it were a simple errand they could get done between lunch and supper.

It won’t be easy, but Roland isn’t wrong.

“Besides,” he ventures, “shouldn’t Regina and Henry and my sister be at the wedding?  Didn’t you say we were inviting  _ everyone?” _

Robin picks that moment to walk into the kitchen, chuckling at the child’s words.  “You’re not letting up on this sibling business are you, kid?”

He looks up at Regina and shrugs.  “Thing of it is, he has a point, doesn’t he? If we are to do a ceremony at all, it wouldn’t be much of one if Henry weren’t here, at least.”

She groans, and nods.

“I’ll speak with her.”

.::.

Zelena is a terrible mother.

Okay, that’s far too harsh.  Zelena is an  _ ill-experienced  _ mother.  And without magic Zelena is quite useless at caring for herself, let alone a child, so such responsibilities have fallen on Regina.

Not that she minds.  Some days she wishes Zelena will just ask her to adopt the baby Robin (that fucking name, the first thing she would do would be to change it).She itches to raise the child herself, but Zelena fears that so much she’s always quick to remind her that she is  _ not  _ Robin’s mother.  

And there’s something familiar and painful about that statement, even though this time, it’s true. Despite changing nearly every diaper, despite soothing her through her first fever, despite all the attention and care she pays her, Regina is not her mother.

She’s just the woman who swoops in to make sure the child isn’t neglected.  A nanny of sorts.

And it hurts, loving her so much, but always had to try to put some emotional space between them, less Zelena worry too much over their bond and sever it (as is her right, as  _ mother). _

But the child is teething and restless lately, and Zelena has been frustrated, so Regina offered to take her for the night and Zelena happily accepted.

Regina will never turn down a chance to hold her soulmates child in her arms, she will be falling asleep at her desk tomorrow, but it will be worth it, for moments like this.

“Robin would have named you after his mother, I think,” Regina whispers to the babe.  “Let’s pretend it is your middle name. Elizabeth. Can I call you that? Ellie, for now?”

The babe snuggles further into her chest, babbling something Regina likes to think is approval.

“You like it.  That’s good. But we can't tell anyone I’ve renamed you,” Regina whispers, “Your mother is very defensive these days.  And I can’t live through another child being taken from me. So it will be our secret.”

There’s a humming sound from the child and Regina sighs.  “It’s not that I don’t like the name. I  _ love  _ it, it just hurts to say right now.  You understand, don’t you, little one?”

Elizabeth is asleep now, but Regina likes to think she agrees with her, anyway.

She bites her lip, adjusting her position in the rocking chair that now sits in her bedroom.  She won’t sleep like this, not with an infant in her arms, but a sense of peace washes over her, a rare moment of bliss, her mind settling, the anger and fear of earlier dissipating, into the space around her, just like the steam blowing out by the humidifier next to her.

She enjoys a few blissful moments of quiet before the mirror nearby darkens and changes.  She groans, whispering a tight, “Robin’s child is sleeping, don’t you dare wake her.”

The queen smiles into the mirror, a finger over the lips.  “I don’t mean to disturb,” she assures. And then, her eyes focus on the bumble in Regina’s arms and she lets out a startled little “Oh!”

Regina can’t fight the smile she returns to her.  “She’s beautiful, isn’t she? Her eyes are blue, you can’t see them now, but they are so bright, they sparkle.  And they will stay that way, you know. Both her parents have blue eyes…”

“I still hate her,” The Queen says somberly.  “I know I’m not supposed to, but—“

“You had a funny way of showing it,” Regina points out with a bitter smile, “I thought you were best of friends.  Spa days, secret plots,, living with her, you—“

“You have no idea what I had planned for her,” the Queen says in an angry whisper.  “You’re just lucky you let a little of that love into me when you did, because… well, she would have suffered a crueler fate than our Robin.”

The mere mentions of his name rips at her, and she wishes she weren’t so obvious, the pain stabs at her and the Queen is watching all of this, the way her face contorts against her will.  She thinks of his fate, the fact every part of him is taken from her, how his soul has been irreparably shattered (she tries to believe otherwise, but she’s not the believer Henry is, and she fails more often than she likes to believe).  

“Does a worse fate even exist?” Regina asks, her voice cracking embarrassingly.

“You can’t hear him?” The Queen asks lightly, and Regina furrows her brow in utter confusion.

“I suppose you have to believe a bit more,” she muses.  “He’s probably been trying to reach you. You should have heard this from me sooner.  Henry was right. He does have a soul. And he… he can reach Roland, somehow, and my Robin, he was able to get through to him.  I can’t explain it, but I can only tell you what has happened.”

“I… please stop this,” Regina begs, because her heart is ripping in two at even the idea, even the possibility.  She can’t let herself hope. “It hurts to much, I can’t—“

“You have to listen.” The queen speaks in that form voice of authority, her eyes narrow until Regina quiets, lets her other half have her moment of lunacy. 

“I know this is hard to understand,” the Queen goes on, “but I swear, what I’ve seen? There’s no other way to interpret this.”. The Queen launches into her story, then, and talks of magic mirrors, of Robins memories, of misplaced feathers and vials of sleeping potions rendered useless by a feather’s touch. 

She speaks of Roland’s words, of his questions about Robin, the unsolicited way he asked about the Queen’s  _ new friend  _ before he had any cause to know about him.

And Regina doesn’t want to believe something that will turn out to not be true, but the words give her such peace she can’t find it in herself to fight it.

There’s a bit of jealousy there, at the fact he’s never tried to reach for her.  And why not? The Queen already has  _ her _ Robin.  Why focus on them and leave her all alone?  But her other half reads her mind, and says it. 

“He  _ has  _ been reaching out to you,” The Queen assures. “You  _ know  _ he has.  Deep down inside you know it.  You’ve fought the signs. And you owe it to him.  You  _ have  _ to listen.  He is there.”

“You really think he made it to the other side,” she whispers, and the Queen nods in the mirror.  

“Roland can tell you more, when you visit.”

Regina shrinks in her seat, the sleeping infant on her lap suddenly becomes a protective barrier between them.  The Queen won’t hurt her, but she also can’t yell, can’t force her, not with a sleeping babe in her lap.

“I can’t visit,” Regina whispers, “I’m sorry, but I—“

“Robin and I are to be married.” The Queen states blankly, staring at her.  “I know you are hurt, I know this news may be hurtful and believe me, after all you have given me the last thing I want to do is cause you pain.  But you said you wanted my happiness. You said not to waste a second. And I didn’t, Regina. But now I am to be married, and Henry, he’s my son too.  I won’t ask for his invitation without your consent, but—“

“Of course.” Regina ignores the pain in her heart, he burn that vibrates from deep inside, covering her body in a heat of envy that she hope the Queen cannot see.  “Invite him. I am sure he would love to attend. And perhaps Emma can escort him, but I—“

“Roland asks about his sister.  He wants to see her, and the wedding is of good as a time of any,” the Queen drawls.  “Zelena can’t deny me visitation with our soulmates child on my wedding day, can she?”

Regina is at a loss for words.  She hates Roland being separated from his sister —  _ hates  _ it.  Knows it’s wrong, not what he would want at all.  But she’s felt so damn powerless to prevent it, she hasn’t been able to even dream of reuniting them.

“He deserves a relationship with his sister,” the Queen presses, and no shit, why doesn’t she pour salt in an open wound.  “She isn’t the only parent, after all.”

“What would you suggest I do?” Regina says, her voice still low, but her teeth clenched, each syllabary coming out with venom dripping off of it. “Forcibly steal the child every weekend from her mother?  I think that might get old after a few times.”

“I don’t care for the supposed rights of the child’s so-called mother,” the Queen gripes, and then her voice softens.  “But I know you do. And I’m asking that you try to get her to see that these children need one another. Start with the wedding day.  You can do that, can’t you?”

Regina knows she can.  it may take a lot of energy but she knows how to convince Zelena to do the right thing — and it’s even easier now that Zelena lacks magic.

“I can,” she says, her voice oddly stronger now.  “We can be there for you, for all of you.”

.::.

Her dreams of him are more vivid since that chat with the Queen.  Robin seems to settle her nightmares, when she relives that horrible day, there’s something soothing in her mind, telling her it’s not all that bad.

She tells herself that it can’t be him.  He’s gone, he’s so far away from her. 

She hears his teasing voice ask her  _ When has it ever been that easy to get rid of me, love?  _

She still relives him dying, his spirit evaporating.  She still sees it, but now she has this gentle assurance that something happened.

_ I am with you, always. _

Regina isn’t sure it’s him, even now, and yet, she’s not quite sure she disbelieves, either.  If it’s giving her comfort, what’s the harm in giving in and just letting herself have this? 

She dreams that she is in a long hallway, a thousand rooms on each side, each opening to a new maze of hallways to wander through.  She opens and searches through each, frustrated, making no progress, searching for something — someone — but unable to find anything.  And deep down she knows what she’s searching for. And he isn’t there, any way.

Yet in these dreams, she cannot help but search every endless maze looking for him around each corner.

“I miss you,” she cries in her nightmare.

_ I don’t miss you  _ his smooth voice assures.  She can’t place where it’s coming from, but it’s there.   _ I don’t miss you because I am with you, every moment.  Stop reliving this pain, stop trying to figure out how the heavens work.  I don’t even understand that myself. Stop blaming yourself, and punishing yourself for something you can’t control.  Just let it all go, love.  _

“I don’t know how,” Regina sobs, “I’ve never done that before.”

_ It’s not too late to learn _ .  _ Roland will teach you. Please go and see him. I beg of you, please grant me one wish, and stay in my children’s lives.  Both of them. _

Ellie’s cries wake her.  She’s panting and sweating, yet cold, shivering.

Who knew being told to let go of her guilt would be so absolutely terrifying.

And maybe it’s just a nightmare, hallucinations induced by too little sleep and anxieties running skyhigh, and hope working its way into her heart but Regina doesn’t care what it is.

She’s attending that wedding.  

Zelena whines, argues that her child is much too young to travel to different realms, she screams, calls her a kidnapper, appeals to everyone who will listen that Regina intends to take  _ her child  _ to a wedding in a dangerous realm, but, much to Regina’s surprise, no one seems to have any issue with her decision.

“Roland should see his sister,” Snow says with a grimace as Zelena begs her to take action against Regina’s decision.  “You did say that you would visit, Zelena, and you haven’t made good on that promise. I think Regina’s been more than accommodating about the whole thing.  It’s just overnight, Zelena.”

“She could stay forever!  And take my daughter with me.  I’d have no chance of fighting her, I have no magic.” Zelena gripes, but Snow just rolls her eyes. 

“She won’t do that.  So settle down and let her take her.  And you know no harm will come to he child.  Regina loves her as much as her own.”

“That’s the problem,” Zelena gripes.

But in the end, she lets her go without a fight.

What choice does she have, anyway?

Snow and Charming have been invited to the wedding as well, along with Granny, Ruby and Dorothy too.  Nurse Ratched (Linda, her name is), and oddly, Jefferson and his daughter, Maleficent, Lily, Emma too.

No one is expected to cross realms for a wedding, but Regina is shocked to find nearly everyone invited will attend.

Besides Zelena, another notable person is left off the invite list — Hook.

“I think things are a bit…” Regina cringes her nose.  “The torture left a deep, painful memory. When I look at you I remember it.  I suppose she does, too.”

“Probably not the best thing to think of on your wedding day,” Hook gives with a shrug.  “I can’t say I mind. I didn’t exactly invite her to my wedding, did I?”

Emma will stay behind with him, vowing to keep an eye on the town aeveryone celebrates.  

Henry is thrilled when he receives his invitation.  He’s missed Regina’s other half, the other side, the part of her that raised him.  

“What do I wear to a wedding in the Enchanted Forest?” He wonders, and Regina finds it’s the first time he’s asked her for clothing advice.

“You can wear a suit, or, I could get you something more… traditional?” Regina offers, “something to fit a prince.”

Henry nods, unable to hide that enthusiasm entirely when he asks, “Are you okay?  With this, I mean. I know it’s a little weird.”

“I’m fine.” Regina lies.  “Don’t worry about me. As long as you’re all right with this arrangement, so am I.”

She’s not sure she’s convinced him, but she’s definitely got Henry to stop asking about her feelings on the subject. 

They decide to leave a night earlier, before the wedding.  That was Henry’s idea (such a strong boy she’s raised, he keeps on rubbing her back, offering her support she should not need from her son) to make the trip more agreeable for baby Robin. When they leave, the infant is blissfully tired of screaming, and there are promises on everyone’s lips that Storybrooke will be okay without their Queen.  

Regina almost wishes she had an excuse to stay, to avoid this.  She’s never been so frightened to attend a wedding that wasn’t hers.

All her fears leave her the moment enters the castle and sees Roland barreling towards her.


End file.
